


Temple of the True Light

by Millie (Wren_K)



Series: Hoʻokalakupua [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Established Relationship, F/M, Hawaii Five-0 Big Bang, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Magical Realism, Non-Graphic Torture, Wanna put my tender canon in a blender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wren_K/pseuds/Millie
Summary: Pix overdoses are on the rise, leaving behind a trail of broken minds and bodies.  A favor for an old flame pulls Chin and the rest of Five-0 into the investigation. Meanwhile, a secretive new cult threatens the peace and safety that Danny and Grace have found on Oahu.
Relationships: Chin Ho Kelly/Malia Waincroft, Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Series: Hoʻokalakupua [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/448312
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48
Collections: H50 Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tremendous thanks to my artist Renecdote ([tumblr | ](https://renecdote.tumblr.com/)[AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote)), I'm so delighted with your drawings. Please go throw her some love.
> 
> Additional thanks to Suzy for the hand holding and reassurances, and to DreamBrother and Nubianamy for the beta. All of the mistakes are the sole fault of the author.
> 
> And as ever, thanks to the mods of the Hawaii Five-0 Big Bang and everyone on the discord. I joke that I don't write without you, but my posting history suggests that's not really a joke.
> 
> While the case in the story stands alone, everything else will probably make more sense if you've read the first part of the series.

The Temple of the True Light was not what Eli had pictured when one of the street kids who hung out in Ala Moana park had told him to look for his sister there. Though really, the depressed little strip mall storefront with the windows blacked out in streaky paint was precisely the sort of place he should have expected. Anna had consistently terrible standards. 

It had been three weeks since she’d stormed out of their parents’ house. He’d let the first week pass, assuming she would turn up when her friends got tired of her couch surfing. Typically, once she’d exhausted her mooching options, she would turn up at home, as contrite as a feral cat. When that hadn’t happened by the end of week two, he’d checked and rechecked all of her usual haunts to no avail. Her best friend Mei had finally caved, admitting that Anna had been using pix in the park with some of the kids living there. 

He hated that he wasn’t surprised that she had started messing around with pixie dust. Anna’s lack of magical aptitude was at the heart of her alienation from the rest of the family. It figured she’d chase magic in a spectacularly self-destructive way. 

One of the boys, who already had the vacant golden stare of a Neverlander, told him that Anna had been around but had started hanging out with a Lighter from the temple. He’d scrounged up a service flyer for Eli and hit him up for twenty bucks. Eli hoped he’d spend at least a little of it on food. 

Now, he watched from across the parking lot as congregants drifted in just before the service time on the flyer. They were mostly young and uniformly had the exhausted look of nights spent sleeping rough. Eli waited until the last minute, hoping to catch Anna before she went inside. Either he had missed her, or she wasn’t coming tonight. 

Eli slipped in, trying to stay unobtrusive – the last thing he wanted to do was disrupt the service. Inside, a palpable gloom was only broken at the long room’s far end by a golden radiance that illuminated a small dais. The light pulsed like a heartbeat, the tempo matched the beating in Eli’s own chest. He took a step further into the room, drawn by the mass of raw magic that roiled like a living being. 

The light writhed, tempo increasing – Eli felt his heart racing to keep pace until his body shook, and his breaths became gasps. It was like running a mile at a dead sprint, or the best sex he’d ever had. He could hear moans and gasps around him. Someone wept. Dimly, he was aware of figures prostrate on the floor, limbs contorting in a poor echo of the light’s fluid movement.

Hungry euphoria enveloped him, pulled him closer, pulled him under.  
Demanding and devouring until Eli opened his magic and poured himself into the light.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve McGarrett awoke with a buzzing happiness in his blood that soothed over the lingering ache of sore muscles. He stretched, cat-like, savoring the echo of exertion in his limbs. The pain was good. Pain meant that yesterday had happened — and yesterday had been _brilliant_.

Yesterday, Steve had fought a demon, and even in a career littered with ridiculous undertakings, hand to hand combat with a demon was novel. Yesterday, Steve had saved his island — admittedly, that was less of a novelty, but it always felt great. Yesterday, Steve had kissed Danny; and more importantly, Danny had kissed him back. 

He sprawled back against the bed for an indulgent minute, reveling in the warm memory of Danny’s lips beneath his own. 

Steve got up, exchanged his boxers for swim trunks, and crept silently down the stairs past the Danny-shaped lump on the couch. He estimated that he could go for an abbreviated swim, and still have time to surprise Danny with coffee and breakfast. If he was lucky, maybe Danny would let him steal another kiss.

The air was already surrendering its chill to the sun, but the ocean was still a bracing jolt as he waded in with long, steady strides until he was deep enough to dive under the water.

He tried to lose himself in the familiar stretch and pull of swimming—as much meditation as it was exercise, but this morning his mind was anchored firmly back onshore. It was a decade and a half of hard-fought discipline that kept Steve in the water long enough for his muscles to warm and loosen.

He toweled off on the lanai and then padded barefoot through the still and silent house. His gaze was drawn to the sofa and his sleeping… partner? Boyfriend? Danny. _Danno_. His Danno. 

The sofa was empty, blanket flung over one armrest. Danny’s overnight bag was missing as well, Steve noted with a bitter pang of disappointment. Had Danny changed his mind about Steve—about them? Two adrenaline-fueled kisses, and then what? He shouldn’t have pushed. He should have let Danny go home last night, given him the space and time to think. It wasn’t as though Steve didn’t see the danger in chasing this spark between them—didn’t stand to lose just as much as Danny did.

But damnit, he deserved better than Danny creeping out without a word.

Faint movement from the second floor snapped Steve’s thoughts back from that precipice. His spine melted with sudden relief, and he took the stairs two at a time.

Steve was surprised when the sound of running water led him not to the guest bath, but to his own room. The light was on in the en suite, the shower running. Steve lingered in the doorway—uncertain of what to do next. His still-damp swimming trunks were clinging uncomfortably to the skin of his thighs. He supposed that he could put on sweats until Danny was done, though the idea did not hold much enthusiasm.

“Steve, you out there?” Danny asked, raising his voice above the water. 

“Yeah. Yes. It’s me.” Steve winced at his own awkwardness.

“Water’s hot,” Danny said, voice aggressively casual. 

Steve caught a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in Danny’s words and felt something ease in his chest. “Good. Uh… Yeah, good.” He thumped his head against the doorjamb. 

“There’s room for two—?” Danny sounded decidedly less sure of himself, trailing off.

“Right! Yes.” Steve narrowly missed wiping out on the bathroom floor in his haste to peel the wet trunks off. He kicked them toward the corner and pulled the shower curtain back.

Danny was rinsing the shampoo from his hair, head tipped back beneath the spray. Both arms were raised, hands scrubbing through the dark gold strands. Water ran down the long line of his neck and the golden planes of his torso; rivulets chasing the contours of his Apollo’s belt toward the nest of dark curls at the vertex and the cock that hung heavily between muscular thighs. “And how was China?” he asked without opening his eyes or lowering his head.

Steve couldn’t breathe—the steaming air was solid in his throat. He swallowed convulsively, aching to touch, to follow the water’s path with his fingers and lips. 

Danny looked at him now, blinking away water that clung to his eyelashes—hands lowering slowly to his side. “Babe?” he asked, tone shifting from teasing to concerned. “I hope this is okay, I —“ 

“It’s good—it’s, it’s perfect,” Steve rushed to assure him. 

The apprehension in Danny’s expression fell away, replaced by a leer. “Gods,” he murmured, “just look at you.” And then Danny’s hands curled around the naked skin of Steve’s hips, drawing him closer.

His own hands reached greedily, skimming lightly up the muscles of Danny’s chest—palms tingling with the light brush of hair. Steve’s fingers stuttered when they came to the long red scratch left by the demon’s claw. He stilled, focusing on the steadfast heartbeat that thumped beneath his palms. What was he doing? This wasn’t some shore-leave hook-up—a little fun and an amicable parting in the morning, breakfast if things had gone exceedingly well—this was _Danny_ , and they hadn’t even talked.

“You’re thinking too much,” Danny said. He looked up at Steve, blue eyes fond and artless. 

“Am I?” Steve asked hoarsely.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Danny said, teasing gently, “Thinking at all makes for an excellent change of pace, but it’s okay, Steve. We’re okay.”

Steve’s head jerked in a rough approximation of a nod. 

“Hey, hey, c’ mere.” Danny’s words were soothing, but his hands were scalding as they slid from Steve’s hips to his low back and tugged him forward. His face was tilted up, lips parted, expression as open as any Steve had ever seen on Danny’s expressive features. 

His skin sparked where he was pressed against Danny, crackling with the frenetic energy of a half-formed spell, all wild magic and terrifying potential. Steve leaned forward, like falling, lips closing against Danny’s, and then it was flying.

Steve meant to go slow. Meant to take his time and savor the dizzying reality of Danny’s mouth beneath his own, the slide of his skin beneath Steve’s hands. Danny, however, had other ideas. He answered Steve’s kiss with an edge of teeth that set Steve’s blood roaring; Steve met the challenge with giddy recklessness. His hands were in Danny’s hair, and his heart was in every desperate, nipping caress.

He pulled gently at Danny’s hair, tugging the blond into a more accessible angle. Danny pulled away just enough to gasp a broken moan against Steve’s lips. The sound was a sucker punch of naked need. Steve tightened his grasp again, testing a theory. Danny bucked against him, panting, his body sliding up in a delicious drag that left Steve harder than he’d ever been before in his life.

“Fuck, Steve,” Danny panted. 

Suddenly predatory, Steve dove back into the kiss, an efficient campaign of lips and teeth and hands meant to overwhelm Danny’s senses the way he overwhelmed Steve’s. It worked for a minute, Danny going pliable beneath the onslaught. His surrender covered a ruse, Steve realized, as Danny’s hand curled around his cock and gave a fumbling stroke.

It was Steve’s turn to make an embarrassingly needy noise.

Danny’s chuckle was pure evil, right up until Steve bent his knees and let his lowering body drag down the length of Danny’s cock. Danny swore, but rolled with the changed angle, getting his hand around both of them. The warm press and achingly slow slide nearly unraveled Steve. Some lizard part of his brain responsible for survival kept him from attempting to just pick Danny up and pin him against the tiles, but it was a near thing.

The water was taking a decided turn for the cool, even magically enhanced water heaters had their limits, but Steve barely noticed. Everything had narrowed to friction and heat and _need need need_. 

Sensation slammed over Steve and sucked him under, a wave that tumbled him mercilessly —all he could do was hang on and not drown. Danny was ruthless, milking Steve’s orgasm as he chased his own release. With a cry that he buried against Steve’s shoulder, his hand stuttered to a halt and sudden heat blossomed between them.

They clung to each other under the cooling water, racing hearts settling into a new rhythm. 

Steve was content to wallow in the embrace, but eventually, Danny grimaced and groped blindly for the shower handle, trying to in vain to eek any more warmth into the water. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s collarbone—which sent giddy little shocks through Steve’s overloaded nerves—drew a bracing breath and turned to face the cold cascade. Soaping up a washcloth, he scrubbed first himself and then Steve clean with an efficiency that would have been right at home in the Navy. 

He snapped the water off and yanked the shower curtain back, practically scrambling to get to a towel. “I’ll get out of here so you can magic up some heat,” he said, waggling fingers toward the showerhead as though he really expected Steve to be able to do anything like spell work after what they’d just done.

“I have to get Grace ready for school,” Danny continued, “but this—this is to be continued.” He darted forward for another kiss, brief but ripe with promises and then disappeared into the other room.

Steve stood in the dripping shower, feeling somewhat like he’d just been struck by lightning. Then he turned the shower back on, hoping the cold water would clear his head. 

The bedroom was empty when Steve emerged from the bathroom a few hurried minutes later, though the detritus of Danny’s passage was comfortingly everywhere. Steve rolled his eyes and picked up the wet towel from the foot of his bed, he hung it up next to his own towel and stubbornly refused to get soppy over picking up after Danny.

He dressed for the day. As he headed down for breakfast, the sheer curtain covering the French door to the balcony caught his eye. The edge was trapped in the jam as though the door had been shut hastily. It had not been that way when Steve had left for his swim. He had a sudden, vivid image of Danny watching him swim from this spot, carefully timing his oh-so casual invitation in the shower. The knowledge that Danny had been just as nervous as Steve bloomed warm in Steve’s chest.

He gently freed the curtain and went down to join his family for breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _AN: Some dialogue is from episode 01x14._

HQ had the happy, contented hum of the team going about tasks absent the urgency of a case. Report mostly written, Chin had turned his attention toward the casting circle – reinforcing what spells and tokens that he could salvage, recasting what he couldn’t. Some of the more complicated spell work would take him weeks to rebuild. 

It felt good to slip the stiff new leather strap around his wrist. The small silver beads didn’t carry a charge yet, that would accumulate naturally as Chin used his magic over the coming days and weeks, but the familiar weight on his wrist made him feel balanced.

A shiver of energy lifted the hairs on Chin’s arm as the casting circle parted and collapsed. He stretched, back popping as he released the posture of tense concentration. It had been a while since he’d done so much spell work in one session. He’d earned a break, he decided, leaving the casting room for the outer office. 

Kono had her rifle broken apart, parts spread out on a soft cloth as she cleaned and inspected each piece. Though mostly she appeared to be watching Danny in his office watch Steve in his. 

“How’s it going?” he asked, settling in on the chair beside her and snagging the unopened water bottle that sat sweating on the edge of the table. He twisted the cap off and chugged a quarter of the bottle before she could protest.

“Hey!” Kono squawked, poking him in the ribs with the short screwdriver in her hand.

Chin twisted away from the jab but didn’t relinquish the bottle. “Thanks,” he said, voice dripping with sincerity. “I was parched.”

“Jerk.” Kono went back to her rifle and watching their teammates with a sly smile. 

Steve was pacing in his office, phone pressed to one ear. Near as Chin could tell, he’d spent most of the morning fielding the governor’s escalating demands for answers – or failing answers – at least a sound bite that would satisfy the media and voters. 

In theory, Danny was hammering their reports into something that would help Steve with the whole governor-appeasing thing. It was their usual post-case division of labor. Still, as Chin joined Kono in blatantly observing their teammates, it was painfully apparent that Danny was utterly oblivious to whatever was on his monitor. He looked positively sappy as he watched Steve on the phone.

“It’s been this way all morning,” Kono informed him. “Steve’s just as bad. I’m pretty sure the boss actually blushed when they actually accidentally looked at the same time.”

Chin snorted. “Think they’ll finally figure it out?”

Kono’s laugh was bright and delighted. “Coffee says they already did, and this is them trying to be subtle.”

He gave her a long, assessing look – trying to gauge if she were holding out on him. “Fine, but good coffee. None of that crap from the gas station this time.”

Chin’s cell phone rang. “Kelly,” he answered, doing an admirable job of keeping the laughter out of his voice as Kono sputtered indignantly about the slight toward her preferred caffeine source.

“Chin?” a once familiar voice asked.

“Malia, hey.” He felt Kono snap to attention, all her protective focus now zeroed in on him. 

+++

Kono’s concern was like a third, extremely aggressive, passenger on the drive over to Hawaii Medical Center West. Chin sighed, keeping his attention firmly on traffic. “It will be fine. I’m a cop, remember. Sometimes you gotta go places and see people you’re not necessarily comfortable with. It’s part of the job.”

“I could – “ 

“It’s fine,” Chin cut her offer off before he let himself entertain it. “Thank you, but it’s fine. Malia called about a case; this is purely a professional interview.”

“If that were true,” Kono muttered, “she would have called dispatch and talked to whoever was up in the rotation.”

“Cuz—”

“You’re right, it’s fine. I mean, she abandoned you when you needed her support the most and then expects you to come running when she whistles, but you’re right. It’s totally fine.”

Guilt sat bitter in Chin’s throat – there was a time, he knew, that Kono had regarded Malia as something akin to an older sister. Chin didn’t regret his attempts to shelter Malia from the fallout as his life burned down around him, but the collateral damage had been more extensive than he’d expected.

“It was complicated, Kono,” he said, gently, because her protectiveness, no matter how misplaced it might sometimes be, always soothed some of the persistent ache he still carried. “It wasn’t— You shouldn’t blame Malia.”

“You’re too forgiving.”

“I’m really not.” He glanced over to see Kono scowling like she really wanted to pursue that line. “What happened between Malia and me is just that, between us. Right now, we’re on our way to interview a potential witness, so I need to know that you can handle that.”

“It’s fine,” Kono answered, handing his own words back to him. Her silence the rest of the trip was deafening, and Chin actually found himself grateful when they pulled into the medical center’s visitor parking area, right up until he remembered the looming awkwardness that awaited inside.

The office number Malia had given him over the phone wasn’t the same glorified mousehole in the basement she’d occupied back when they were together. Chin had fond memories of bringing her lunch during long rotations and the two of them crowding in together, occasionally remembering to eat. He’d have to find a directory or something.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to. Malia was on them almost as soon as the automated doors parted, calling out Chin’s name in greeting.

Two years hadn’t changed the way her gentle smile, even one as awkward and uncertain as this one, caused his heart to stutter in his chest. “Malia, hi,” he said, nearly tipping forward to claim a kiss he’d lost any right to. “You look amazing.” 

Chin ignored Kono’s murmured “professional.”

“Thank you for coming,” Malia said. 

“What’s going on?” Kono cut in.

Malia startled, registering Kono’s presence for the first time. “Kono! How are you?” she said with genuine pleasure and stepping forward as though to pull her into a hug. 

Kono stepped back and Malia’s face fell. “Uh, great,” Kono offered awkwardly. “So, the case?”

“Right. Of course.” Chin hated the wounded, uncertain look that Malia flicked between the cousins. That expression was his fault, and it had no place on Malia’s expressive face. “It’ll be easier if I show you in my office.”

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was frankly awful. Chin had half a hundred things he wanted to say, and precisely none of them were appropriate for a professional visit. 

Kono could be the loudest silent person Chin had ever met. Her protectiveness was a fantastic gift he would never take for granted, even when her anger was terribly misplaced. And Malia – _fuck_ – it really wasn’t fair how much he still loved her. 

Malia led them a short way down the hall and unlocked an office that had her name on a door plate. The title underneath read Head of Thaumatology. She waved them in, gesturing to a pair of bland upholstered chairs that faced a sizeable wooden desk.

“New office,” he observed mildly. 

“New title,” she countered, with a sad smile—another milestone they hadn’t celebrated together. “They couldn’t keep me in that broom closet forever.”

“I liked the broom closet,” Chin said, and immediately wished he could thump his head against the shiny new surface of Malia’s desk. 

“You called about a case?” Kono cut in, saving Chin from himself. Her tone was flat, barely within the bounds of professional.

“I did.” She unlocked the computer on her desk and turned the monitor to face them. A series of black and white MRI cross-sectioned brains filled the screen. “A colleague in neurology asked me to consult on a spate of recent cases. They initially presented as vidanuamine overdoses, but some of the cases are atypical.”

“Pixie dust is HPD’s territory,” Kono said, still cool. Chin should step in—place a restraining hand on her arm, anything, if he could just tear his gaze away from Malia’s face.

“Detective Kaleo,” Malia said, her own tone sharpening just a touch, “wasn’t interested. As far as he’s concerned, these are just another overdose to toss on the pile with the rest that he can’t be bothered with.”

“You don’t think so?” Chin asked.

“No. I don’t.” She tapped a key and the images zoomed in, colors illuminating the scans. “This is the dentate gyrus, part of the hippocampus. We know this is one of the areas that determine magical aptitude, but it’s also responsible for things like creativity and curiosity. The image on the far left is a healthy example. The middle one is from a chronic user – the damaged areas show fatigue due to overstimulation. But a few of the cases, like this third example, have been more like… extraction. The patients we’re seeing with this particular type of damage are presenting as early-onset dementia. Memory is deteriorating exceptionally quickly, but it’s as though there’s a spark that’s just absent. They react to outside stimuli, but there’s no initiative on their part.”

“Will the area regenerate?” Chin asked.

“We don’t know. With the area so damaged, it’s hampering any thaumatological intervention. I’ve convinced the family of the latest patient to speak with you. Detective Kaleo did not make a good impression, so that wasn’t easy. Please, hear them out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thaumatology - the study of miracles, in universe this is the melding of magic and medicine._


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t difficult to pick out the family of Eli Malloy. A middle-aged couple stood half-collapsed against each other in the hallway, their eyes hungrily fixed on the closed door to a private room. Across the hallway, though just as trapped in orbit around the door, a teenaged girl sat curled in a tight ball.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malloy,” Malia greeted them, “I would like you to meet Detective Kelly and Officer Kalakaua. They’re with the governor’s task force.”

“Thank you for coming,” the wife said, absently. Her eyes barely flickered to meet their faces at the introduction before being drawn back to the door. 

“I’m Samuel Malloy,” the husband offered, extending his hand to first Chin and then Kono. “This is my wife Rose, and that – “his face took on a sour expression as he gestured toward the seated girl, “—is our daughter, Anna.”

The girl flinched at her name but didn’t look up from her intense scrutiny of the torn knee of her jeans.

Kono left the parents to Chin’s capable questioning and crossed to Anna. She sat down next to her uninvited, crossing her legs tailor style. “I’m Kono,” she offered. 

“I heard,” the girl sniffed, still not looking up.

This close, Kono could see that she was disheveled, hair lank and tangled. “We’re going to figure out what happened to your brother,” she tried again.

Anna shrugged and picked at a thread on her jeans with dirty fingernails. They sat there silently, letting the murmur of the adults’ conversation fill the quiet. At last, Anna muttered, so quietly Kono barely heard her, “Won’t change anything.”

“Maybe,” Kono admitted. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, trying to stay as open and non-judgmental as possible.

For the first time, Anna lifted her head. She was older than Kono had initially guessed, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Though her dark eyes were red with crying, there was the thin gold band of a pix user around the iris. She studied Kono intently.

Kono bore the scrutiny placidly, waiting for Anna to decide if she would help or not.

“I don’t know,” she finally sniffled. “I mean, I knew Eli was looking for me. He always does, but—I was just, I wasn’t ready to go back.” There was a hint of defiance among the misery. “He shouldn’t have. I was fine, and then he wouldn’t have—” She choked on a sob, her expression hardening. “You work with that ass that was here earlier?” she asked Kono, nearly spitting the invective.

“No,” Kono assured her. “Dr. Waincroft called us because she didn’t think he believed you.”

Anna nodded, a short sharp gesture. “Good. He thought Eli was… He was wrong. Eli’s not, you know. He’s not a fuck up, not like me. I don’t care what that ass says, Eli doesn’t use pix.” She sniffed and continued bitterly, “He doesn’t need to, does he? I’m the broken one. He’s a strong witch.”

“Where would Eli have looked for you?”

“Ala Moana park. It’s the easiest place to find pix unless you have a hook-up.”

“Do you have a hook-up?

“I—” she scowled, glanced at the door to Eli’s room, and then squared herself. “Yeah. There’s this guy I hang with sometimes. I don’t know his deal, but he’s usually good for a handout. I was crashing with him for the past two weeks.”

“What’s his name?”

“He didn’t do this; he wouldn’t hurt Eli.” She sounded like she was trying to convince her self of that. 

“You tell them that name,” Mr. Malloy snarled, suddenly looming over them. “You did this, you and your dirtbag friends. You tell them, or so help me, you’re no daughter of mine.”

“Daddy,” Anna cried, folding in on herself again.

Chin caught Mr. Malloy by the shoulders and pulled him away, redirecting and soothing as he steered the man back toward his wife.

Anna sobbed, ugly heartbroken sounds. Kono wrapped her arms around the girl and let her wail against her. They sat like that for a long time. 

The door to Eli’s room opened, disgorging a nurse who took in the tense scene with blatant curiosity. “You can go in now.” The words were barely out before Mrs. Malloy disappeared inside without so much as a glance toward her daughter. Mr. Malloy followed right on her heels, shutting the door purposefully behind him, leaving Anna on the other side.

Kono let Anna cry herself out, rubbing a soothing hand down her shoulder. She tried to ignore Chin and Malia talking quietly, each watching the other hungrily, as though Malia hadn’t torn Chin’s already wounded heart out of his chest.

The sniffles eventually slowed, and Anna pulled away from Kono. “Sorry,” she sniffed. “I…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kono hushed. “Just take a minute.”

Anna nodded. “I, uh, I want to go wash my face,” she said, waving down the hall toward a restroom sign.

“Sure,” Kono said, “I’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

Kono waited in the hallway and made a show of being occupied with her phone, so she wouldn’t have to engage with Malia. Eventually, she did get sucked into an email exchange with Charlie Fong about some trace analysis she had been waiting on. By the time their volley of questions and answers had devolved into some light flirting, Kono realized Anna had been gone quite a while. 

She knew, even before she opened the bathroom door, that Anna had done a runner. The empty stalls taunted her. Cursing her inattention, Kono returned to Chin and Malia. “Hey, we need to go,” she said, interrupting their conversation.

Chin gave her a curious look but made his goodbyes quickly. “It was good to see you,” he told Malia, looking so soft and hopeful that Kono kind of wanted to stomp her foot and scream.

“You too,” Malia said. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Kono stalked toward the elevator, leaving Chin to catch up.


	5. Chapter 5

“Brother!” A loud voice boomed as Wo Fat stepped from the dim restaurant to the valet stand.

He allowed himself the briefest of moments to curse whatever circumstances had brought Piotr to his doorstep. The man was big and noisy and ruthless in a way that frequently meant abandoning home bases. Wo Fat’s operations in Hawaii were still delicate, the last thing he needed was a giant lummox blundering about. He dismissed his displeasure and fixed a bland smile firmly on his lips before he turned to face the man. “Brother,” he greeted. “I did not know you were in Hawaii.”

Piotr grimaced. “Just arrived. I don’t know how you stand it here, whole place stinks of magic.”

Wo Fat waved him around toward the passenger side of the car. “You get accustomed to it,” he said. 

Piotr tossed his bag into the backseat, without a thought for the fine leather seat covers. Wo Fat managed to not roll his eyes through sheer force of will. They had been classmates of a sort, part of a group of twelve children either stolen or given to the Veralumio to mold into their hunting hounds. 

Of all the boys in their cohort, Wo Fat had despised Piotr the most. When they were eleven, they had quarreled over some forgotten slight. Wo Fat had woken the larger boy with a knife to the throat, and hushed threats whispered in tones low enough to not alert the other children or their minders. Rather than warn Piotr off as intended, the maniac had decided they were now fast friends. Really, he’d been more tolerable when they had been enemies. 

Wo Fat drove them through the city, allowing Piotr to babble about mutual acquaintances. A few of their cohort had disappeared, and the priests were in a lather that someone was hunting their agents. It seemed likely, and Wo Fat bitterly wished the hunters luck—so long as their plans did not interfere with his own. From the easy way Piotr gossiped, it did not appear that anyone had thought to question Wo Fat’s loyalties yet. 

He waited until they were safely within the walls of his temporary safehouse to ask after Piotr’s mission. If it conflicted with his own goals, he was best equipped to eliminate the threat here.

Piotr shrugged, affecting aloofness, though Wo Fat knew all too well the blood-thirsty hound that lurked beneath the affable exterior. “A heretic, what else. One of the priests thought to steal some of The Light’s glory for his own. He was expelled but fled like a coward before his sentence could be carried out.”

“Dangerous quarry,” Wo Fat said thoughtfully. “Will you need help?”

“No,” Piotr said, his smile growing knife sharp. “I know this prey of old. We shall see how the worm likes it when I am the one carving and he is the one screaming.”

“One of the teachers?” That did surprise Wo Fat. The masters of the Caskuri were cruel and selfish, some took open pleasure in the torturous rituals that turned novitiates into Caskuri – the spells that transformed them etched into their very bones, but they were nearly untouchable within the priesthood. For one to have been expelled, his crimes must have been obscene. 

“Chatham,” Piotr supplied, and Wo Fat was tempted to renew his offer of assistance.

“The old men finally find a line they wouldn’t cross?” he asked. That Wo Fat had not heard any rumors about Chatham’s fall from grace was troubling. The man had been close to the ĉefpastro – widely considered the heir presumptive, his disgrace should have burned through the informal network the Caskuri maintained. Wo Fat hadn’t realized he had he let himself fall so far out of touch.

“Nah,” Piotr shrugged. “Avelard made his play while Father is in his dotage. Convinced the governors that Chatham was using magic to his own purposes and not The Lord’s. If you can imagine such a thing,” he said, making his eyes go wide in mock shock at such an idea. “They took a secret vote, but not secret enough. He got out of the Citadel before they could carry out the execution. We almost had him in Rotterdam, but some of our brothers were still loyal to him. Lost Eloise and Mikael in the fight, and three of the traitors – Simon, Tacitus, and Zhu.”

“Simon was always a cur,” Wo Fat said, “though I’m surprised that Tacitus turned.”

“You haven’t been home in a while. Chatham’s been tinkering. Not that Avelard’s any better, but I think Chatham’s close to stripping us of any free will whatsoever. I hadn’t seen Tacitus in six months before the docks, and I know he hadn’t left Citadel during that time.” He said it casually–as if the news he delivered didn’t threaten everything Wo Fat was planning. 

Once the priests had a way to remove the human entirely from the Caskuri, it was only a matter of time before Wo Fat would be ordered home for further modification. He would be forced to openly rebel, losing the resources that he needed to find Shelburne. 

“Well,” he said evenly, concealing his racing thoughts behind a smooth visage, “whatever help I may offer, brother, you have but to ask.”

“My weapons were arranged, but I do need an introduction,” Piotr said. 

Wo Fat raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

“Hawaii’s governor. The old men think saving Hawaii’s people from a murderous mage might give them the toehold they’ve wanted for so long.”

Wo Fat didn’t indulge in verbal outbursts, but the thought of the priesthood stomping through Hawaii demolishing all his carefully constructed plans made him want to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Veralumio - followers of the Lord of Light, believe that magic use is heretical outside of specific instances._
> 
> _Caskuri - taken as children and molded by the Veralumio priesthood into hunters of witches, extensive spell work has rendered them immune to magics. Also called hounds._
> 
> _ĉefpastro - spiritual head of the Veralumio, informally referred to as Father_


	6. Chapter 6

Danny leaned back against the Camaro and tipped his face skyward, enjoying the gentle breeze that kept the morning from being miserable. He was in a shockingly good mood, though the cause wasn’t exactly a mystery. They were less than a week into this thing between them, and Danny was so damned happy it was starting to make him jumpy. Thinking of—out of the corner of his eye, he caught Steve watching him with a smug expression. 

“What,” Danny asked, though he couldn’t work himself up to too much of a bristle.

“You look happy,” Steve said, grinning at him. “It looks good on you.”

“What, you think you did that?” Danny asked, fighting the answering grin that tugged at his lips. “I’m just pleased that no one’s tried to kill us this morning.”

Steve hummed. “I seem to recall you accusing me of trying to kill you earlier,” he said, tone lecherous. 

Danny felt his ears go pink. “Yeah, well, you ought to come with a warning label.” Not his finest retort, but remembering the deliberate way Steve had set to taking him apart that morning was not the sort of thing he should be thinking about while at work. Being the subject of all that intense focus was still terrifyingly overwhelming – and addictive. He shifted against the sudden thrill in his blood.

Steve’s laugh was knowing and evil.

“You’re a menace,” Danny muttered, trying to put his focus back on the case.

He and Steve had just finished another dead-end interview for the case that Chin had brought them, apparently to impress his ex if Danny correctly interpreted the odd tension between the cousins. 

The case had been stubborn from the start, though to be honest, Danny wasn’t entirely convinced there was a case. Still, he felt bad for the kid in the hospital – chasing down wayward younger siblings was something he knew plenty about. Which was also not a great topic to dwell on while at work. 

The team had started by re-interviewing anyone associated with the sale of pix that they’d picked up during a previous case while searching for Etienne, but so far, they’d had precious little to show for it. It didn’t help that technically the case was still HPD’s. While they had the governor’s blessings to dip in and out of cases as investigations and Steve’s whims dictated, it was still better to leave feathers unruffled until it was no longer avoidable. Which meant either diplomacy or stealth. It took a surprising amount of effort to stay off Vice’s radar when operating on territory they’d jointly tilled so recently.

Today they had moved on to interviewing Anna’s friends and associates, but it seemed that she had worn out her welcome in most of those corners. Mei had begrudgingly agreed to speak with them at the diner where she worked.  
The diner’s coffee had been excellent, which almost made up for how poor the information turned out to be. Mei hadn’t minced words about her falling out with Anna earlier in the month, the girl had been deep in the throes of a newly intense pix addiction. So far, the story had been the same everywhere. Over the past few months, Anna had tapped out most people willing to lend her cash – then around two weeks prior, she’d suddenly stopped coming around. Mei, like most of Anna’s friends, was worried and furious, and utterly useless.

The girl herself had fallen entirely off the radar, much to Kono’s chagrin. Though at the rate she burned through friends and acquaintances, Danny didn’t figure it’d be too long before she surfaced – and unless they were able to track her to her mysterious supplier – it was beginning to look like that was the only way they were going to make any progress on the investigation.

His phone chirped with an incoming text. Danny grinned and showed it to Steve. The tow desk had just received an abandoned vehicle complaint about Eli’s Mazda in the parking lot of a strip mall about a mile down the way. Finally, a lead they could actually use.

Steve grinned back, that smile that meant he tasted progress in the air – which, Danny assumed he equated to the potential for property damage.

Even with mid-morning traffic, it took them less than fifteen minutes to pull into the little open-air strip mall. 

Eli’s Mazda was parked in a back corner and appeared to be untouched. The doors were locked, but Steve was a disturbingly deft hand with a slim-jim. 

Nothing in the car appeared to have been disturbed, and Danny felt confident that Eli had parked it there. He sent a small amount of will outward toward his binding. Only the usual background radiation of magic answered.

Steve crouched by the driver’s seat and pulled out a pair of gloves to begin his search; Danny went around to the passenger side – typical. The car was reasonably clean for a twenty-something’s vehicle, a few receipts in the glovebox and a handful of customer loyalty cards from a coffee shop near the university. Steve was the one to hit paydirt with the folded-up flyer on the dash – paper already turning faded and brittle after a week of baking under glass in the hot sun. He unfolded it, scanned it silently then turned it for Danny to read. 

It was an obviously homemade ad for religious services at the loftily titled “Temple of the True Light,” based in the same mall. The name teased uneasily at Danny’s mind. “Well that seems awfully convenient,” he said dryly. 

“Doesn’t it just? I’ll call Chin and Kono.” 

While Steve brought their teammates up to speed, Danny surreptitiously scanned the storefront that served as the temple. It wasn’t much, just a pair of large windows blacked out with streaky paint. The branding for the footwear outlet it had replaced was still visible over the door. 

Steve hung up and glanced over at Danny. “What’s with the face?” he asked.

“There’s no face,” Danny answered, mildly amused by their usual patter’s reversal. 

“There definitely is. What’s going on?”

Danny huffed a sigh. “True Light. Could be a play on Veralumio or could be I’m jumping at shadows.” He shrugged and felt his happiness of that morning settle sour in his stomach.

“We’ll wait for Chin and Kono to get here before we approach,” Steve decided. “Chin and I can take lead; you can hang back.”

Danny gave him a flat look. “I very much doubt any of them know me by sight,” he said. “If I used my magic, that’d be another story, but it’s still locked up safe.” His mouth twisted bitterly around the reminder of what zealots had cost him. “If it is a Veralumio front, their priests are all adept magic users. And if they have a Caskuri in there with them, your magic won’t be any use at all. I think I can protect you from any magic, but you won’t be able to cast. Chin and I have been practicing turning my binding into an offense instead of a defense. But I haven’t tried it in the field yet —”

“Hey.” Steve caught Danny by the shoulder. “We’re okay. We’ve gone up against heavier hitters. I won’t let anyone near you or Gracie.”

Danny shoved him a little and then let himself sink into the offered reassurance. “Not helpless,” he grumbled, melting a little further as Steve’s hand slid up to cradle the back of his neck.

“Never entered my mind,” Steve said, ‘but you know I’d do anything to keep both of you safe.”

Danny nodded and gave himself a minute to revel in the ridiculous amount of faith he had in that declaration and the man making it. 

He started to answer – something sappy and embarrassing, but he noticed an SUV parking in the spot closest to the temple. “Heads up,” he murmured, careful to watch the car out of the corner of his eye. 

“You want to wait?” Steve asked, which was annoying and sweet, and Danny was tempted to bite him for suggesting it. 

“It’s just a conversation,” Danny said. “It’ll be fine.” Though he did let Steve take the lead when they approached the man. He was blandly middle-aged, with dark tidy hair and the kind of heavy framed glasses that screamed accountant. Pasty skin marked him as a recent arrival, as did the summer-weight suit he wore – well-tailored, but still heavier than anyone local would pick.

“Hey, how’s it going,” Steve greeted as the man unlocked the front door. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, turning to greet them. His accent was lilting and refined, though Danny couldn’t place it.

“Yeah. McGarrett and Williams, Five-0. We’re looking into a burglary that happened a few doors down. We were hoping you might have seen or heard something,” Steve lied smoothly.

“Oh,” the man said, looking back and forth between them warily. “Sebastian St. George. I don’t know how much help I will be, I’m rarely here outside of service times.”

“Please, Mr. St. George,” Steve badgered, turning the charm up to an astonishing degree. “We only need a few minutes of your time; it would be a big help.”

“Fine. I suppose I can spare a few moments before I prepare for the evening service. Please, won’t you come in?” He turned and strode swiftly inside.

Danny felt the warm press of Steve’s hand on his back as he ushered Danny through the door ahead of him. The inside of the space was empty, save for an illuminated altar at the far end. Stacks of mats were littered throughout the rest of the open space.

Danny crossed the welcome mat, and the world shattered into blinding white agony.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve’s vision was gone in a wash of white-green light. The electric taste of hostile magic filled his nose and mouth, before the clean ocean salt of the wards Chin had crafted into Steve’s badge flared to life, wrapping Steve in a protective shield. Steve’s gun was in his hand without thought, angled down until he located Danny, who had been a step ahead of him. He reached out with his free hand, intending to grab Danny and pull them away from the open door’s framing light. His hand closed on empty air. 

He could hear St. George running away from them, deeper into the temple. Steve took a step forward to follow or to find Danny, it didn’t matter which. His foot bumped against something that felt horrifically like a body. He dropped into a low crouch; gun now raised to cover his fallen partner. His free hand groped and found Danny’s violently jerking shoulder. Steve blinked hard, trying to clear the dark artifacts from his vision. 

As the dazzling effect wore off, the spots resolved into the shape of Danny, body stiff and twisting in seizure – head thrown back in a thin keening sound that ripped right through Steve.

The sound cut off abruptly, and Danny went completely limp. Somehow the silence managed to be worse.

“Danny, hey, Danny.” Steve shook his shoulder. Danny’s eyelashes fluttered, showing only a wide swath of white. He traded his gun for his phone, calling for an ambulance and backup on autopilot. 

He checked Danny’s breathing, happy to find it steady if a little labored. “That’s it, just keep breathing for me,” he ordered, easing Danny carefully onto his left side in the recovery position. 

Steve crouched over Danny, scanning the dim interior, still blinking against the lingering stars in his vision. 

St. George was gone. Steve forced himself to take a quick trip through the storefront and storage rooms to make sure they were alone. A glance out the front door confirmed that the SUV was gone, St. George must have run around the building while Steve was stunned. Steve called in a BOLO on it as well and returned to hovering over Danny, unwilling to leave his partner vulnerable for a second longer than necessary. 

The welcome mat reeked of acrid smoke, and when Steve flipped it over, he found a six-inch square of cloth stitched to the back, a spell had been woven directly into the fabric. It was fussy, intricate work – nothing that he recognized, though Steve wasn’t exactly a magical scholar. He scowled at it, personally affronted that it had managed to hurt Danny. Why hadn’t his binding counteracted it? Who was St. George expecting to come after him if he had that kind of ordinance just lying around?

The wait for the ambulance was interminable. Danny was just beginning to rouse when the ambulance arrived. His transition from unresponsive to quarreling with the medics was impressively fast. 

“Detective,” the older of the two paramedics cajoled, “Your partner tells us you were unconscious for a long time. You really should see a doctor.”

Danny harrumphed, batting at her hands irritated. “It wasn’t that long,” he tried.

“Ah-huh,” she said, ignoring him and continuing her assessment. 

Steve abandoned him to the medics, or maybe it was the other way around, and went to join Chin, who was overseeing the magical equivalent of a hazmat scene. St. George had a shockingly large stockpile of mechanical magics stashed throughout the temple. 

Chin glanced up in greeting as he approached. “Hey. How’s Danny?”

Steve aimed for nonchalant, he missed by a wide margin. “He’s fine. Refusing to go in.”

“How are you?” Chin asked, with a look that told Steve he wouldn’t accept any prevarications.

“That—” Steve huffed out a breath that only sounded a little rough. “I didn’t realize how much I take for granted that nothing magical can touch him,” he admitted. “I didn’t sense anything before it went off.”

“Makes sense,” Chin said, waving a hand toward the altar. “Everything here is mechanical, the only supplies for active casting look like props.”

“You think St. George isn’t really a witch?”

Chin shrugged. “Or he’s like Danny and can’t for some reason.”

“First of all,” a pale, decidedly grumpy Danny said from behind them, “he and I have nothing in common. Second, what is all this junk?”

“Danny, you alright?” Chin asked, reaching out to grip him by the shoulder. 

Danny swayed a little and then scowled. “I’m fine. Had my bell rung worse sparring with this guy,” he said, flailing a hand toward Steve.

“How did that happen?” Steve prompted. “Why didn’t your binding kick in?”

“I think that it did,” Danny said. “It felt like the mother of all tasers. I think,” he winced and probed a spot at the back of his skull. “I think it targeted my binding, hit it with a power surge to overwhelm it.”

“You should go to the doctor,” Steve told him. “You hit your head; you were unconscious. Apparently, you were magically tased. You would make me go.”

“I’m not going to the doctor, Steven,” Danny sighed. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I was injured in a magical attack. They’ll send me straight to thaumatology, and once I’m there, how do I explain,” Danny flailed a hand in a sweeping gesture that encompassed his face and torso, “any of this?” 

“Oh,” Steve said. That was a good point. “Will you at least sit down? You look like you’re about to collapse again, and I cannot do that twice in one day. Chin and I’ve got this.”

“Fine,” Danny conceded. 

Steve could tell he wanted to keep arguing, but it looked like staying upright was taking all his concentration. Steve shepherded him to a metal folding chair set near the now open backdoor – out of the way, but close enough to the altar that he could keep an eye on him. 

When he got back to Chin, the other man’s attention was fixed on an ornate clay amphora that held a place of honor on the altar. “What’s that?” he asked.

Chin didn’t answer; instead, he took a shuffling step closer to the platform. 

“Chin?” Steve asked. And then he felt it, faint but insistent – a hungry euphoria that pulsed faintly around the amphora. It intensified as Chin drew nearer. “Woah, hey, Chin!” Steve grabbed the back of Chin’s tac vest and pulled him back several feet.

He could hear Danny trying to get up and waved him back down. 

Chin’s cheeks were flushed and hot beneath Steve’s palms, his gaze was distant, though clearing rapidly. “Yo, you with me?” Steve asked him. 

He blinked back to himself. “What—”

“I was gonna ask you that,” Steve said, letting his hands drop to Chin’s shoulders. “You back with us?”

Chin frowned. “Yeah, but I think we need to get everyone out of here and go to full hazmat protocols.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Personally, Steve was all for burning the place to the ground. That was two of his team that had been sucker-punched so far this morning. He wasn’t looking forward to the next surprise. He whistled sharply. “I need everybody out. Don’t touch anything else. I need officers on the doors, no one except the special occult techs are allowed back in.”

There was a mild flurry of activity as everyone stopped what they were doing and moved toward the exits. Steve shepherded his two teammates toward the front door, flat out ignoring Danny’s sputtered insistence that he was perfectly fine. The way he swayed like a sailor undermined his assertions thoroughly, and Steve didn’t bother to indulge him in the argument.

Kono bounced up to them as they stepped out into the bright sunlight. “Danny!” she chirped, “Glad you’re okay. Don’t scare us like that. The boss can’t handle it.” 

Danny accepted the offered hug more graciously than he would have if Steve had tried it in front of the assorted members of HPD and the ambulance crew who were still eying him speculatively. Steve was half-tempted to make another stab at convincing Danny to just go get checked out already but didn’t think it was worth the scene it would cause.

“What’d you find out?” he asked her once she was done fussing over Danny. 

“Name on the lease is Sebastian St. George. He arrived in Hawaii four months ago, he has an asylum petition pending – claiming persecution due to magical abilities in his home country of Taured.”

“His accent wasn’t Taurish,” Danny said flatly. “Closer to British than Spanish.”

“An affectation?”

“Maybe. Tuared still has state-sanctioned persecution of magical users, claiming to be from there would bolster his asylum case.”

“So, he lied about his background,” Chin mused. “Maybe about the rest too? There aren’t the supplies I would expect if he were an active magic user, just an impressive collection of mechanicals and mystical looking props.”

“Or we’re back to there being a reason he can’t use magic,” Steve said, watching Danny closely. 

“You think that the Caskuri are hunting him,” Danny said flatly. “That somebody out there has a jar with a little piece of his soul in it, waiting for him to break cover and cast?”

“Makes sense,” Steve said, resisting the urge to bundle Danny and Grace up and get them as far away from anything that might draw the hunters to their doorstep. “That trap on the door targeted your binding curse, it would make sense if he were expecting a Caskuri to turn up.”

“Fuck. So, we gotta find this idiot before he draws them here; stop him without him using his magic and – again -- drawing them here; and then what do we do when we’ve got him?”

“We’ll work on it. If he’s in Halawa, the wards there will dampen his power. We just have to get him there. In the meantime, we have to find him. We can’t assume that this is his entire cache, so we need to figure out what other resources he has on the islands.”

“Which brings us back to Anna’s boyfriend,” Kono mused. “We know Eli was poking around the temple. There has to be a connection between her, the temple, and pix. It has to be the boyfriend.” 

“It’s not a bad theory. Chin, I want you to work with the techs to identify what-all St. George was playing with in there. That was some heavy-duty magic. I want to know what we can expect if we corner him again. The rest of us are going to focus on St. George and Anna. Now that we have a place to backtrack from, maybe we can make some progress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Man from Taured](https://www.ancient-origins.net/unexplained-phenomena/mysterious-tale-man-taured-evidence-parallel-universes-or-embellishment-005788) \- one of my favorite urban legends.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Chin shivered as the elevator descended through the heavy warding that isolated the occult laboratory from the rest of the crime lab. Kono’s nose crinkled in obvious distaste. Chin’s own magic prickled at the unwelcome sensation that never got any more pleasant, however many times he visited. With its barriers, Halawa Prison was the only place on the island that was more locked down. 

They checked in with the security guard and accepted the waiting amulets. Chin couldn’t help his sigh of relief as the heavy press of the wards lifted when he slipped it around his neck. It would never feel natural to have his power suppressed. 

Charlie Fong met them in the reception area and escorted them to the lab, where they were working on the evidence from the temple. Techs were going over the various items in carefully reinforced circles. The amphora from the alter was isolated in a heavily reinforced side room. 

Charlie was excited. “Five-0 always brings me the best puzzles,” he said, smiling, “but you guys really outdid yourselves this time. Some of this stuff is – well, we’re still trying to identify it.”

“What have you got so far?”

“Well, we think we figured out the source of pixie dust.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Magic. I mean, yes, we knew it was magic. I mean, it’s the pure magical essence extracted from humans.”

“The soylent green is people?” Chin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Basically. The amphora from the altar,” Charlie waved a hand toward the heavily warded isolation room, “contains a hirudo animea. They feed on ambient magic. Normally, they’re pretty harmless, in fact, some practices actually use them as a therapeutic aid. They believe they controlled exposure to leeches can increase the volume of power a witch can handle. But this one is ancient. I sent some test results and photos to a researcher at the Athens National Museum, and she thinks the amphora is Mycenaean in origin. Possibly 1200 BCE. We can’t be sure if the leech inside is original to that date, but I can tell you it is hellishly strong. Every sample we’ve fed it has been sucked dry in seconds. The stronger the sample, the more voraciously it feeds.”

“What would happen if a non-magical human encountered it?”

“We tried to replicate what we think was happening during services at the temple, and mostly it seemed to be okay. The samples en masse were depleted, but not completely drained. At least until we added a sample to represent your victim. When we introduced a proxy for a relatively strong magic user, the leech went into a frenzy. It locked onto the source and drained it. It cracked the crystals we were using in 3 of the 4 tests. Reduced one to shards.”

“What would that do to a human?”

“Nothing good, I can tell you that.”

“How do we contain it?”

“Well, the amphora is designed for it, the containments are part of the designs baked into the clay. The stopper is the weak point. We can reinforce it with lead until we can work out a better solution. It would be a shame to destroy it.”

“That thing has been spreading misery all over Oahu,” Kono pointed out.

“No, an irresponsible witch has been abusing a priceless artifact.”

“Is there any way to reverse the damage?”

“That I don’t know,” Charlie said. “That’s beyond the scope of my expertise.”

“Could you forward your findings to Dr. Waincroft at Hawaii Medical Center West? She’s the head of thaumatology, it may help with a patient of hers. At least give her a place to start.”

“Sure thing,” Charlie agreed. 

“Anything else interesting?”

“What wasn’t? Initial field assessment was correct – nothing on-site to indicate active casting, but some of the mechanicals are on the banned magics list. Some of them, we haven’t identified yet.” 

He led them toward other stations in the lab and gave them a rundown on what they knew so far. None of it was good.

+++

Chin’s phone chirped as the elevator climbed toward the surface. He checked the incoming text and smiled to himself. 

“Malia?” Kono asked, voice cool but not combative.

“Maybe,” Chin answered, not wanting to lie to his cousin, but not looking for a confrontation either.

“You’ve, uh, been texting her a lot,” she said in the same neutral tone.

“Maybe,” Chin repeated. “A bit.”

“I don’t understand,” Kono said. “She broke your heart, walked out on you when you needed her support the most—”

“She didn’t,” Chin interrupted.

“What?”

Chin sighed. “She didn’t walk out on me.” The elevator door opened, and he hurried out like he’d be able to escape the conversation, which was stupid, because a) Kono was one of the most tenacious humans on the planet and b) she drove.

Kono didn’t miss a beat, letting the argument carry them out of the building. “What are you talking about?”

“I ended it with her. She didn’t want to. Malia would have burned her life down around her ears, standing by me. And I couldn’t do that to her.”

Kono huffed out a breath. “Wait—you couldn’t? Of all the arrogant, self-sacrificing—”

“Look, I was already…” Chin sighed, “and—”

“You let me blame her. I have been furious with Malia for two years, and it wasn’t even her fault.”

Chin really missed the carefully neutral tone. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. But look, do you think she’d be head of her department right now if she’d stuck by me? There would have been rumors and doors closed in her face all over. This is a small island. Look at how much standing by me cost you.”

“I came out fine,” Kono objected, glaring at him across the roof of her car.

“Yes,” Chin allowed, “but only because nobody could predict Steve McGarrett. Kono, if you had graduated from the academy and entered HPD as a patrol officer like the rest of your class, they’d have never let you off parking duty. How long do you think you could have tolerated that? A year, three years? Five years of shit assignment after shit assignment and you’d still love being a cop, or do you think you’d have given up? They have ways of making it uncomfortable to stay. And I know how stubborn you are, but I would never trade your happiness for mine. If I could have driven you off back then, I would have. You just wouldn’t shake.”

“Cousin—”

“No. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to decide for her, but I would do it again.”

“Okay, well, your reputation has been rehabbed, so now she wants to get back together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. We’re gonna have drinks and we’ll see.”

“Drinks and we’ll see,” Kono mocked him. “Please tell me that’s not how you asked her out.”

“Give me some credit.”

Kono raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, so she asked you?”

Chin rolled his eyes at her. “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see,” she mimicked again, mocking fondly.

They climbed into the Cruze, but Kono hesitated before turning the ignition. “Do… do you think Malia would forgive me?” She directed the question mostly toward the steering wheel. 

“I think she did a long time ago.”

Kono nodded. “Still, I should say it. And you’d better not screw up drinks before I get the chance.”

Chin laughed as she pulled out into traffic, feeling lighter for the confession.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve tried to pretend he wasn’t watching Danny like a hawk—he’d already been scolded for mother-henning twice that morning, and he didn’t care to test Danny’s bristles a third time—but it was hard not to hover when his partner still looked drained from the day before.

“How does Chin put up with this stupid thing?” Danny grumbled, poking at the tech table. The facial recognition software obligingly grabbed the features of the cheerful woman on the poster behind the clerk instead of the young man who had rented St. George’s SUV.

“Hey,” Steve said and stepped in before there was any destruction of government property. “Let’s not do anything that Chin will take personally.” He tugged Danny around and settled him into a tight embrace, thrilling as Danny’s tension drained away. The fact that he could touch Danny freely now still made Steve giddy.

“I need to find this guy, Steve. I looked at that spell, I recognize some of those sigils. If there are Veralumio in Hawaii… I just, I need to find him.”

“I know. We will. But that gets harder if you kill our equipment.”

Danny rested his head against Steve’s chest and sagged into the hug. “Only because I have a healthy fear of Chin,” he mumbled.

Steve laughed. “Sensible. Come over tonight?” he asked softly.

Danny sighed. “We’ve been there every night this week. I need to check on the house. Clean out the fridge if nothing else. And I should check in with Grace—she loves you, but this is a huge change, and I want to be sure she’s okay with us.”

“You,” Steve hesitated, and tried not to hem Danny in against the table, “you wouldn’t run, not without telling me? ‘Cos I’d go with you and Grace, no questions asked. Just… don’t vanish on me.”

It was Danny’s turn to pull Steve in for a tight embrace. “No. Gods, where would I even go? Like it or not, this is our home now.” He pulled Steve down into a fierce kiss; Steve surrendered willingly. Once Danny had kissed him good and breathless, he pulled back and said, “You are our home now.”

Steve’s chest ached as the blow he’d been braced for failed to fall. His face hurt with the width of his smile, and then he was crowding Danny back into the tech table, returning the kiss with interest.

There was a soft sound from the entry, and Steve looked up to see Chin and Kono retreating quietly. He giggled helplessly, collapsing around Danny who gave a discontented oof. 

“We don’t have to worry about breaking the news to the team,” Steve managed, still laughing.

Danny groaned and let his head rest against Steve’s chest, but he held on and eventually joined in the giggling.


	10. Chapter 10

Mrs. K’s house was always full of noise and chaos. It was Grace’s fifth favorite place, third favorite on the island – after Uncle Steve’s house and the zoo. The older kids were playing a push-me-pull-you game with one of the spells they were working on.

Grace loved watching the fluid hand gestures that resulted in a wall of force. It looked like a dance as they moved inside their casting circles, unleashing waves of force as they tried to push each other out of their circles. If she looked really hard, she sometimes thought she could see the flow of magic they were spinning. Grace hadn’t learned anything half as fun yet, still stuck practicing anchors like a baby. Mrs. K had said she was really good at them, but she wouldn’t teach Grace anything like what Aiden and Tangi were spinning. Still, no one cared if she stood on the sidelines and mimicked the big kids.

Mr. Hoppy, who had been happily nosing around in the grass near Grace’s backpack, chuffed a quiet alert and clambered back into his plastic carrying case. Grace looked toward the drive where her dad was just parking.

“Danno!” she cried as she raced to hug him.

“Hey, Monkey.” Danno caught Grace under her arms and swung her up onto his hip with a spin that made her squeal with delight. “How was your day?” he asked.

“Good! Melissa R. gave me an invitation to her birthday party next weekend, but she didn’t give one to Rory, so I don’t know if I want to go. Only Tommy says he’s going ‘cos it’s at the trampoline park, and Rory was mean to him last week, so he doesn’t care if she doesn’t go. But Rory’s in my reading group, and it would be mean to go without her, but she is kind of mean.”

“Wow,” Danno said when she paused for breath. He let her down. “That sounds like quite the dilemma. What do you say we talk about it over spaghetti tonight?”

“At Uncle Steve’s?” she asked.

“Let’s give Uncle Steve the night off. You’ll have to make do with your old pop.”

“Fine,” Grace sighed dramatically, though secretly she was pleased with the thought of having her dad to herself for the night. So long as they got to see Uncle Steve tomorrow.

The drive home passed in a recap of what she’d learned that day in school – fractions, ugh – and how her magic lessons were going. They parked in front of the apartment they’d hardly visited all week, and Danno grabbed a bag of groceries and a canvas duffle out of the trunk.

Grace skipped up the front walk, careful to keep Mr. Hoppy’s case from swinging too wildly.

“Grace, your backpack,” Danno reminded.

She huffed and ran back toward the car while Danny continued past her.  
Grace had just pulled the back door open when there was a brilliant flash of green light and a horrible, strangled shout that she realized had come from Danno. The cry cut off sharply. Grace spun around; backpack forgotten.

Grace didn’t understand what she was seeing. Danno was face down on the ground, groceries scattered around him. Green light danced and spun over him, colliding with silver whenever it touched his skin. The taste of bitter-metallic magic was heavy in the air.

She took a hesitant step forward, feeling her skin prickle as the electrified air lifted her hair. “Danno?”

He didn’t move. Grace started toward him, crying his name again.

Mr. Hoppy gave a warning screech, stopping Grace in her tracks. Two strange men were coming around the side of the apartment. The smaller of the two looked surprised to see her. He started to smile; it was not a nice smile.

“Hello, little girl,” he said, in an accent that sounded like Mommy’s. He waved a hand toward her father and said, “He’s hurt. My friend and I are going to help him.”

“No.” Grace shook her head. She didn’t like this man or his big, silent friend. “You stay back.”

He stepped toward her, the smile growing worse. “My dear –“

Grace dropped Mr. Hoppy’s case; the plastic shattered against the gravel. “No!” she yelled, hands coming up in the movements she’d been mimicking in play less than an hour ago. She was scared and she was angry. On the last sweeping gesture, she stomped forward and screamed.

A wall of energy flowed from her hands. It hit the men and slammed them both back through the wall. Grace could hear glass and wood give way. Grace herself was thrown backward, landing in a tumble behind the car. She lay in the gravel panting and dizzy.

Mr. Hoppy shook himself free of the plastic remains of his case. His keening cries grew rougher, and Grace crawled until she could see him again. Mr. Hoppy wasn’t terribly rabbit-shaped any longer. He was bigger for one, seemed sharper too somehow. He pawed at the ground, planted between Grace and the two men who were slowly picking themselves up.

The familiar flicked a glance in her direction, and a voice that she knew was Mr. Hoppy’s suddenly boomed in her head. “Gracie, run!” it commanded. “Run!”

She ran.

Grace pelted along darkening streets, cutting through yards and hedges – unable to outpace the sight of her Danno so still. She ran until she didn’t recognize the streets, until the ache in her legs and utter exhaustion forced her to slow. Up ahead was a house, the windows were dark, but the raised front porch was wrapped in lattice that had pulled away in one corner.

Grace crawled into the dark, dry hole and pulled the lattice closed behind her. She curled into a tight little ball and wept. She wept for herself, for Mr. Hoppy, and for her Danno. Because she was little and alone and scared and exhausted.


	11. Chapter 11

Waking was a familiar agony that Danny frankly could do without. The sharp, bitter taste of the magic he’d encountered at the temple was once again thick in his mouth. His body ached as though he’d been tased, which to be fair, he basically had been. Again. Fuck. 

He scrunched his eyes, trying to focus, trying to remember what had happened. Cold concrete scratched against his cheek at the movement. That… wasn’t right. He’d been home. Crossing the gravel drive to his front door. With … Grace.

Danny’s eyes snapped open.

He was definitely not at home. The basement was low and generic – unfinished joists overhead and cinderblock walls that hadn’t seen fresh paint in a few decades. Diffuse, wan lighting leaked through the layer of yellow newsprint taped over the high, small windows.

It hurt to sit up, every muscle shaking with the effort. Danny had been dropped, none too carefully if his aching face were any judge, in the center of a wide septagram. The outer ring spanned the open space between two support posts, perhaps seven feet across. The painted lines pulsed with the same sickly green he’d seen flash before the lights had gone out.

A rough tool bench had been draped in an opulent cloth – arcane sigils embroidered in silver and gold glittered even in the low light. A man hunched over the makeshift altar. He gave no indication that he was aware of Danny’s presence. There was no sign of Grace or anyone else in the basement.

Danny struggled to his feet, feeling slightly less vulnerable once he’d managed it. Not that it improved his circumstances all that much.

Cautiously, Danny stretched one hand toward the green edge of the circle. He gathered a small amount of will and pushed it outward, priming the binding curse around his magic. Instead of the normal, consuming hunger, there was an unpleasant shiver that raced along the invisible threads that bound him. Danny brushed the barrier with a fingertip and the shiver became a sharp lashing pain that rippled up his hand in tangled lines of silver and green. He jerked back, shaking his hand in to dispel the unpleasant sensation.

The man – Sebastian St. George, Danny realized – turned around at the pained gasp and gave Danny a sneering smile. “The hound awakens at last,” he said, all faux civility. “Welcome.”

“St. George,” Danny growled. “Where’s Grace?”

St. George’s smile took on a sharp edge. “The girl with the rather remarkable temper?” His accent was polished and cool over the words. “She’s well enough.” The unvoiced threat was thunderous, even in his indifferent tone.

“You listen to me—” Danny’s voice was a low growl. The man before him was the boogie man who had dogged his every waking choice for the better part of two years. Danny could feel his magic lashing angrily, testing the confines of the binding curse; his control worn to a bare thread. “—you touch a hair on her head, hell, you even breathe in her direction and I will kill you.”

“I’ve no doubt,” St. George said mildly. He studied Danny for a long moment, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably.

“What?” Danny finally snapped.

“You are not what I expected,” St. George said at last. “One of my brothers got clever with you. Was it Avelard? He does love his mutants.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Danny said.

“Of course not,” St. George agreed in a tone that said he thought Danny was lying, but that St. George had no pressing need to confront him. He slowly paced counterclockwise around the septagram, pausing at every point to light a small clay pot —using a kitchen lighter, Danny noted with surprise.

“Tell me, how did he weaponize the binding? It is an interesting idea, I must admit, though I am surprised he would trust one of your kind with such a power.”

“One of my—? What are you talking about? I’m a cop, I don’t know any Avelards or any of your other brothers. You’ve clearly mistaken me for someone else.”

St. George lit the last lantern and green light doubled in intensity. Danny felt as though his atoms were being scraped away layer by layer. The pain left him cold and nauseous. He didn’t scream, mostly because he’d forgotten how his lungs worked.

There was nothing nice in the smile St. George leveled at him as he lifted the lamp to his mouth and deliberately blew out the flame. 

Danny panted hard, feeling rather as though he’d been turned inside out and then put to rights again. The pain wasn’t so much gone as it was echoing through his nerves. “F’k was tha’?” he slurred.

“Come now, you would hardly set a hound loose on the world without a way to leash it, would you?”

“’m not h’nd.” Danny squeezed his eyes shut, begging the world to stop screaming.

“So you say. You walk into my temple, reeking of that spell and it’s what — happenstance?”

“Was there ‘cos you were sucking the magic out of college kids and selling it to other kids. ‘m a cop, you ass.”

St. George tsked. “A gross oversimplification. Those heretics have no right to the Lord’s light anyway.”

“If he’s pissed about people just using magic, how’s he gonna feel about you turning his ‘light’ into a recreational drug?”

That cracked St. George’s aloof demeanor. He clicked the lighter and lit the lantern, holding it once again to the point where the star met the circle.

Time and space fractured for Danny, washed away under pounding waves of agony. It towed him under, spit him out, and then pulled him back down, an endless cycle of fresh pain. He never caught his breath enough to acclimate.

It dragged on until Danny had lost all reason, until there was only the pain. 

He didn’t notice at first when the pain finally receded, so lost in the agony that he couldn’t feel the absence. He was on his knees, voice screamed raw – the echoes still ringing in his ears. Danny’s hands were scraped, pressed hard against the cement as though he was hanging on to the earth. Broken breath dragged across his raw throat in great gulping gasps. 

“Are you ready to cooperate?” St. George asked, his mask of civility back in place. 

“F’k you,” Danny panted. 

“Insolent hound.”

“N’t a h’nd,” Danny said, trying for a growl, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

“I have cast that binding hundreds of times,” St. George said loftily. He dusted something across the oil in the lamp. Danny felt himself go stiff, immobilized. His body was lifted to hover before St. George. This time when the flame kissed the wick, there was no pain, but silver lines of script began to thread across his skin. The words of Danny’s binding curse pulled forward and rendered visible. “but I have never seen the spell worked this way. Who are you? Do not try the idiot officer routine on me. This took skill —and desperation if I am not mistaken. Was it for the girl? Is she one of my idiot brother’s blowby?”

Danny managed to curl his lip back into a snarl. He had to keep St. George’s attention off Grace at all costs. “Yer the one stuck using mechanics,” he forced out, “instead of… of actual magic. Cheap puh-parlor tricks, like that hirudo animea? What’s the matter? Your brothers steal a piece of your soul and stuff it in one of their nifty little jars?”

“A temporary state, I assure you,” St. George spat, spilling the lamp oil in his fervor. 

Danny tipped his head back and laughed mockingly. “How long you think you can run, huh? Bet this island was your first stop. Didn’t even need your soul to find you. Just follow the greedy fuck leaving a trail of broken kids.”

St. George dashed the clay lamp to the ground and snapped, violet flames ignited along his fingers. “I want that animkruĉo, you benighted dog. I want my soul back!” He pressed his hand to the septagram’s barrier and spoke a harsh incantation. The violet light permeated the green until the entire circle took on a purple hue.

And then the pain began. If Danny thought he had understood pain before, he now discovered how woefully wrong he was. He didn’t know how long it took for the merciful darkness to finally consume him, but he suspected it was a long time.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve was drowning in silence – he’d already fled the empty house for the lanai, but even the beach felt incomplete without Danny’s warm teasing and Grace’s bright chatter. He put his book down on the arm of the chair and glared at it in dissatisfaction. It wasn’t like he could expect Danny to move in after a week, but he wanted to ask. Especially when Danny had gathered up his and Grace’s dirty laundry that morning and mentioned getting out of Steve’s hair for the night. It wasn’t like Steve didn’t have a perfectly good washer and dryer – better even than the mildewed pair at Danny’s apartment complex. Steve had forced himself to nod and make an off-handed remark about having some chores he’d been putting off.

He didn’t know if Danny needed the night apart or if this was some ill-advised plan to give Steve space, but it was clearly a terrible idea.

When his cell phone rang, Steve almost pounced on it in his eagerness for distraction. It wasn’t a number he recognized. “McGarrett,” he answered.

“Uncle Steve?” Grace’s voice had a quaver that set all of Steve’s nerves alight. 

“Gracie, what’s wrong?”

“D-d-danno,” her voice gave way in a miserable series of hiccupped whimpers.

“Grace, are you okay? Where’s Danny?” Steve was moving, already tearing through the house as he efficiently stripped out of the shorts and tee he’d been wearing, mind racing through the list of equipment he’d need.

“Uncle Steve?” a strange woman’s voice replaced Grace’s on the line. “My name is Sarah Myung, I found Grace hiding under my porch. She said that she and her father were attacked at home. I’ve already called the police to their address, but she wanted to call you.”

“Is she okay?” Steve’s heart thundered in his ears. 

“Ah – scared, but I don’t think she’s hurt. I didn’t get much of the story out of her.”

“Where are you? I’ll come get her.” He pulled cargo pants on with one hand, shoving his feet into boots as soon as they cleared the legs.

He was familiar with the neighborhood she named, less than two miles from Danny’s apartment. “I’ll be there as fast as I can,” he assured. “Can I talk to Grace again?”

“Of course.” There was fumbling as the phone changed hands.

Grace’s sniffles came back on the line, and the small sound made Steve want to destroy whatever had caused her fear. “Gracie, you sit tight. I’m coming for you. I’m gonna call your Uncle Chin and Aunty Kono, and we’re going to help Danno, okay. I’ll be right there. You did so good. Danno’s gonna be so proud of how brave you are. You call me if anything happens before I get there, okay?”

“Okay,” she answered in a small voice.

It gutted him to hang up on her, but he needed to focus on getting other help started toward Danny. Fuck. When this was over, he was moving Danny and Grace into his house, and he didn’t care what Danny said about it. He never wanted another phone call like this again.

He called first Chin and then Kono as he finished dressing, yanking his tac vest on with ruthless efficiency. He was closest to the address where Grace was waiting, so he directed the other two to the apartment. Steve was torn between the scared little girl and the need to know what had happened to Danny. He also knew full well that Danny’s priority would be Grace, so she had to be his as well.

At the front door, he forced himself to pause and take stock. Panic was an indulgence he could ill afford. After a moment’s consideration of himself and his equipment, Steve grabbed the small satchel of magical supplies he kept on hand. 

The drive to Sarah Myung’s address was the sort of harrowing endeavor that Danny would definitely have opinions about. Steve pulled to a stop in front of a weathered house with an older car in the driveway. He didn’t sense an ambush but stayed warily alert as he got out of the truck anyway.

An older Asian woman with long, steel-grey hair and a kind face came out on the porch to greet him. “Are you Steve?” she asked, chin raised in challenge.

There was nothing magical about the woman or her home as far as Steve could tell, so he didn’t know what her plan was if he turned out to not be Steve, but he appreciated anyone willing to put themselves between danger and Grace. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “Where’s Grace?”

“Uncle Steve!” the girl in question cried, bursting through the screen door and darting around her rescuer. She leapt off the front porch without bothering with stairs and launched herself into Steve’s arms, completely trusting that he would catch her.

He did and hauled her into a tight hug. Grace buried her face against Steve’s shoulder and burst into fresh tears. 

“You’d better come in,” Sarah offered. 

Steve followed her inside, carrying Grace easily. He settled on the offered couch but made no effort to put Grace down.

He let Grace cry and tried not to think about the minutes that were ticking past. The need for information was a gnawing beast in his chest, but he couldn’t rush her. When her tears had subsided, he gently asked her what happened.

The story tumbled out in starts and stops – Grace had an eye for detail, but no context for what was important to an investigation. She had noticed the green magic that tasted like metal, but virtually nothing about the two men beyond the fact that one had an accent like her mother’s. She’d been nearly awestruck by her own hands as she described the magic she’d been able to summon from them, but hadn’t noticed any other cars parked on their street. And if Steve had let her, he’s sure he would have heard about every moment of Mr. Hoppy’s marvelous transformation.

Grace’s story confirmed what Steve had already suspected, that Sebastian St. George was behind the attack. It didn’t explain why he had gone after Danny, and it, unfortunately, didn’t get them any closer to finding the man, but it at least gave Steve a place to start hunting. 

Steve thanked Mrs. Myung for taking care of Grace and carried Grace out to the truck. He found himself reluctant to put her down until he knew they were somewhere safe. 

He had just climbed into the driver’s seat when Chin’s face lit up his cell phone screen. Cognizant of Grace’s presence, he brought the phone up to his ear rather than put it on speaker like he usually would. “Chin, what do you have?” He didn’t bother with a greeting.

“It’s not good,” Chin answered. “There’s no sign of Danny. We found the same spell that St. George used before, so it’s probably safe to say he’s connected. Someone else was here, though—there was a fight, Danny’s apartment is destroyed.”

“Grace,” Steve said, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her straighten up, listening to his conversation intently. “Grace said she got scared and lashed out.”

“Grace did this? Huh.” Chin sounded awed, Steve wondered how bad the damage was. 

“Yeah,” he said, all too aware of her watching him. “She was protecting Danny. Right now, I’m taking her to HQ. I’ll get her settled, and then I’ll start going over what we have on St. George. You and Kono join me there as soon as you’re done at the scene.”

“We will. Duke’s got a nephew coming over to board up the apartment; the damage is… extensive. You take care of Grace.”

“I will,” Steve promised. “Mahalo.”

“St. George?” Grace asked, voice small. “Is that the man who hurt Danno?”

“We think so.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He’s a bad man, he hurt a lot of people and Danno was trying to stop him. He didn’t like that.”

She sat quietly with that information for a long minute. “Is Danno okay? Is he mad that I ran away?”

“No, Gracie,” Steve said, heart breaking. “Your Danno is so proud of how brave you are, always. And he always, always wants you to be safe.” He hesitated and then admitted, “We don’t know where he is right now, but we’re doing everything we can to find him and bring him home to you.”

He glanced over to find her watching him, dark eyes solemn as she studied him. Finally, she sniffed and drew her feet up onto the seat, turning her gaze toward the passing streets in a miserable little huddle.


	13. Chapter 13

It was surreal to work a crime scene where Kono had overlapping happy memories. She had picked up Grace for surfing lessons from the porch, where two techs were currently evaluating if the structure were sound enough for them to process the scene. Danny had cooked her a meal at the stove that she could see tilted drunkenly inside the kitchen, which definitely hadn’t been open-air when he’d stood there and waggled the spoon at Steve whenever he tried to sneak food.

She skirted the taped off drive and surveyed the scene, looking for her cousin. He was near the front door, crouched to examine something on the ground next to an evidence flag.

Kono cut across the tall grass to avoid other markers that had been laid out. 

A soft chirrup made her stop, scanning the area for the source of the noise. A large white lump nickered at her again and Kono hurried over. She would not have recognized Mr. Hoppy if it weren’t for the long ears, they were the only thing still rabbit-shaped about him. The familiar had grown to easily three times his previous size, his soft form had turned ropey and dangerous, with long claws that were stained dark with drying blood. He struggled to lift his head at her approach, keening softly. 

“Cuz,” Kono cried, scooping him up into her arms and hurrying toward Chin. 

Chin met her halfway, question dying unasked on his lips. His hands filled with a swirl of power as he registered the burden in her arms. “He’s exhausted. There’s barely a spark left in him.” Mr. Hoppy’s fur began to illuminate a pale blue as Chin fed power into him, bolstering the familiar’s depleted reserves. “I can help, but he needs Grace.”

As Chin ended the power transfer, Mr. Hoppy slowly shrank back to his usual leporidaen form. Kono curled him in her arms and cradled him, fingers sinking into soft fur. That he allowed the cuddling was a shocking sign of how exhausted the usually prickly familiar was. 

“Steve’s taking Grace to HQ, you should meet them there.”

“I will. Was this St. George?”

Chin nodded. “I think so. Found the same spell as the one Danny triggered at the temple.”

“I don’t understand. Why go after Danny?”

“We find him and I’ll ask.”

Kono scoffed. “Like the bossman’s going to leave enough to answer questions.”

Chin smirked at the truth of that statement. 

She cast a gaze toward the ruined apartment wall. “Well, at least Steve has an excuse to make Danny find a new place now.”

It was Chin’s turn to scoff. “Ten bucks says Danny’s living with Steve this time next week.”

“Like you’ll get anyone to take that bet,” Kono answered. “We’ll find him, right? I mean, we’ve been looking for St. George for a week and getting nowhere.”

“Of course we will.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I have an idea,” he said, though he didn’t look terribly happy about it. “Go. Take Mr. Hoppy to Grace. I’ll meet you at HQ.”

+++++

“Mr. Hoppy!” Grace rushed to gather the bunny from Kono. “You were so brave,” she cooed over him, fussing and checking for injuries. The bunny knickered happily as he nestled into her arms. She turned her tear-bright eyes on Kono. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s really tired,” Kono said. “Uncle Chin loaned him some energy, but what he really needs is you.”

Grace nodded solemnly. “I know,” she said firmly. “It’s the duty of every witch to share her power with her familiar. Mrs. K. taught us how.”

Steve, from his office, caught Kono’s eye. He gestured to the phone at his ear, then to Grace, and gave Kono a shrug and a thumbs up. Kono nodded, returning the thumbs up. “Hey, Grace, why don’t you bring Mr. Hoppy into my office. We can wait for Uncle Steve in there. Have you eaten?”

She shook her head. “Danno was gonna make spaghetti tonight.”

“Well, I can’t do Danno’s spaghetti, but I’ll see about getting some dinner brought up, okay?”

“Okay.”

Chin entered HQ and waved to Kono but headed straight for Steve’s office and closed the door. The two men had an intense conversation that Kono watched with interest through the open blinds. Whatever Chin was attempting to sell Steve on, the boss looked briefly taken aback, then enthusiastically onboard. The pair exited Steve’s office and headed for the office reserved for casting.

Kono stayed with Grace and Mr. Hoppy, watching videos on her tablet, and tried to not feel like there was something she should be doing to help. About half an hour later, the elevator door chimed and Kono went out expecting to collect the food she had ordered for Grace. To her surprise, Malia stood in the hallway, holding a paper bag and looking awkward.

“Malia, hi,” Kono greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Kono,” Malia said warily. She held up the bag. “Chin called, he asked me to bring a sample of Eli’s blood. Is he here?”

That took Kono aback. “Blood magic?” No wonder Chin had looked troubled. There was a reason that even benign uses of blood magic were heavily regulated.

Malia shrugged. “I didn’t ask, I just brought the blood. Is that terrible?” 

“Probably better you didn’t,” she admitted. “Come in, I’ll get him.”

“Kono, what’s going on?” Malia was quiet, but firm, in that way of hers that Kono had always admired.

Kono glanced at Grace, who was peering out of Kono’s office at the newcomer. “Grace, honey, I’m going to go talk to Malia. Will you and Mr. Hoppy be okay?”

“It’s okay,” Grace said, “You can tell her about my dad. Uncle Steve’s gonna bring him home.” She said it as a basic fact; the sky was blue, water was wet, and Uncle Steve would save her father. 

Kono waited until Grace had settled back on the couch before giving Malia the barest overview of what was happening. Malia, despite not knowing Danny, was still horrified.

“How can I help?” 

“Malia.” Both women turned at Chin’s greeting. “Thank you for bringing this.” Chin brushed a kiss against her cheek as he took the bag.

“Of course,” she said. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Actually, I hate to ask, but we don’t have anyone to stay with Grace…”

No, no, of course. Anything you need.”

Chin was relieved. “Thank you. And thank you for this,” he said, holding up the bag. “I think I can use it to track his sister. I need to—” he waved a hand back toward the workroom. 

“Right, uh, happy to help,” Malia said. 

“Grace,” Kono said, realizing they’d been rejoined by the girl, “this is Malia. She’s a friend of Uncle Chin’s. She’s going to stay with you while we go get your dad.”

“Can you really find him?”

Chin held up the bag. “That’s what this is for,” he told her. “You know, Malia is a doctor of magic, she could take a look at Mr. Hoppy.”

Grace regarded Malia with huge eyes. “You could?” she asked, awed.

“I definitely could,” Malia told her, crouching so she was at eye-level with Grace. She let Grace take her by the hand and lead her into Kono’s office, where Mr. Hoppy had been set up in a makeshift nest on the couch.

“Blood magic,” Kono asked Chin, “really?”

“Steve’s not the only one who can take advantage of immunity and means,” he said. 

“Can you even track her using Eli’s blood?”

“I’m pretty sure. Yes. Probably. Let’s just say I can find all of his blood relatives. I know there’s an aunt and a couple of cousins on the island, and his parents. So, there may be some process of elimination. Luckily, their family is not our family—five, six people tops—so it should actually be doable. But I should get started.”

Kono stared after him, feeling troubled. What he was proposing was innocuous, but there were very few circumstances that a court would have given him a warrant—for good reason. Her gaze turned to where Grace was carefully presenting Mr. Hoppy to Malia for an examination. Let it be worth it, she told the ache in her heart.


	14. Chapter 14

The basement had grown dark, illuminated only by the green lines of the spell that kept Danny caged. He’d lost all sense of time but suspected that the night was edging into early morning. The house overhead had been quiet since Danny had recovered from St. George’s last visit. 

They’d had three conversations since Danny had woken up in this miserable basement – he wasn’t sure he could handle another one. His nerves felt scrubbed raw, and he could feel the edges of panic curling around him. He couldn’t hold it back for much longer.

He could undo his binding curse, release his powers – that would at least give him a weapon, but he hesitated. He couldn’t be sure it would actually improve his immediate circumstances, but he was certain it would mean gathering up Grace and going on the run again. Danny loved his life here – he had a family again, had Steve. He would be patient, wait until he had no other choice. 

Steve was looking for him and Danny would bet on Steve every single time.

The creak of the stairs drew Danny out of his musings, the footfalls too light and hesitant to be St. George or his assistant. Danny wearily got to his feet and turned to face whatever came next.

It was the girl, Anna. She didn’t much look like the photo Kono had given them, apple-cheeked and smiling. Her eyes were distant, and in the low light, he could see the gold glitter of pix in her irises. 

“Pretty,” she murmured, drawn forward by the green light of the septagram. 

“Hey,” Danny hissed, voice low and one ear tuned toward the stairs. “You’re Anna, right? Eli’s sister?”

She blinked slowly, apparently registering his presence for the first time. “Who’re you?” she asked, retreating a step.

“I’m Detective Danny Williams, I work with Officer Kalakaua – you met her at the hospital?” Danny licked his lips. There were so many ways this could go horribly and just the slimmest chance of success. 

“Yeah.” Anna nodded. “She was nice. Eli’s broken.”

“We’re working very hard on that,” Danny soothed. “But right now, I need your help. I need you to call Kono and tell her where I am.”

“Oh, I can’t.” Anna shook her head sadly, “Mason took my phone away. Said we were in danger if anyone found us.” 

“We are in danger,” Danny agreed, “those men upstairs are the ones who hurt Eli, they’ll hurt you if they know you’ve been down here and seen me.”

Anna jerked her head side to side in a rough shake. “No. Mason wouldn’t.”

“What about St. George?” Danny asked. He saw the realization dawn in her eyes. “Please, you know he’s dangerous.”

She chewed on her lip, shoulders hunched as she considered her words. “I—I can’t,” she stammered, eyes glittering with welling tears. 

Danny sagged with disappointment. “Anna, listen to me, today is going to be a bad day. St. George is going to kill me. If you’re still here, he’ll probably kill you too. I am begging you, run. Get out, call for help. You can save us both, Anna.”

She was still for so long that Danny was sure he had lost her, that she would go back upstairs and try to forget the man in the basement; instead, she squared her shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “Did they really hurt my brother?”

“They did. We found Eli’s car in the lot of the church St. George ran. He was there looking for you.” He saw the words hit like a blow.

“Okay. I’ll go,” she said. “I’ll get help.”

Danny could have wept. “Ask for Five-0. They’ll know who to send. Be careful.”

Anna nodded, heading toward the door that lead to the outside. She closed the door softly behind her, and Danny heaved a great sigh of relief. 

Less than a minute later, he heard the door open again. He squinted against the darkness, gutted to see Anna being dragged through the door by a large red-headed man – no one he recognized. Anna twisted, fingers clawing at the large hand that gripped her throat.

“Quiet, girl,” the man ordered, giving her a little shake.

She stilled, breath hitching as she still clung to his wrist.

He dragged her over to stand in front of Danny, and the two men regarded each other flatly across the green light of the circle.

“You are not my brother,” the stranger said curiously.

Danny shook his head. “No. I would have definitely remembered you at Sunday dinner.”

The man gave an amused snort. “Did Chatham start building his own hounds?” he asked, studying Danny with an intense look that left him feeling rather exposed.

“What?” Danny asked because nothing in that sentence made any sense.

The man waved his free hand toward the green lines of the septagram. “That spell is meant for one thing, holding a Caskuri. And there you sit, wrapped up with a bow. So, you aren’t one of my brothers, but you are Caskuri. Who are you?”

“I’m nobody,” Danny snapped, heart hammering as he stared the creature of all his nightmares in the face. “Definitely not one of the hunters. Let the girl go.”

“You know us then,” he smiled, leaning closer to scrutinize Danny. “If not a hunter—prey?”

“I’m nobody,” Danny insisted. “That psychopath upstairs has been all kinds of chatty, that’s all. Now let the girl go.” Anna looked on the verge of passing out. 

“Hmm. Lucky for you, little mouse, I hunt a different prey today.”

“St. George?” Danny guessed.

“If that’s what he’s calling himself. I knew him by a different name. Now, do I have to tell you that if you warn him that I’m here, I’ll boil your bones where you stand?”

“You let the girl go and I’ll be quiet as a mouse,” Danny countered. “She was leaving anyway, won’t be any trouble for you. St. George doesn’t care if she lives or dies, so she’s no use to you as a hostage.”

“Could snap her neck and be done with it,” he said indifferently.

“Do, and I’ll scream the house down, I’ll ruin your element of surprise.”

“You think I can’t handle myself?”

“I think I don’t give a shit if you kill St. George. Hell, let me out, and I’ll help. If you wanted to take him head-on, you would have come through the front door instead of skulking through the basement. Now let her go, or I start the party.”

“Hmm.” He turned Anna to face him. “You, girl, if I let you go, what will you do?”

“Run,” she gasped.

“You won’t warn them?”

“Assholes hurt my brother,” she spat. “Kill them both if you can.”

He smiled, wide and mean. “And what of our little friend here?”

“Take his help.” 

He chuckled. “Perhaps not just yet. If I see you again,” he promised, low and terrible, “you will die screaming. Go.” He released her and gave her a shove toward the doorway. 

Anna hesitated, looking back at Danny. He nodded encouragement, and she fled through the door and up the stairs, hopefully, to summon Steve.

“Who is she going to call?” the man asked.

“My friends, I hope,” Danny admitted. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance of you letting me out of here when you’re done with him, is there?”

“Keep Chatham distracted for me, and I’ll consider it.” 

It was Danny’s turn to hmm. He didn’t believe for a heartbeat that the interloper would help him, but that was a concern for after St. George, or Chatham apparently, had been handled. They stood in heavy silence, listening for movement overhead.

Danny could only take so much quiet. He gestured to small vial worn on a cord around the other man’s throat—the contents inside swirled and sparked with violet light. “That how you found him?” he asked.

“Mmm,” the other man grunted. “I was surprised that he broke cover so easily. He knows how we hunt.”

Danny chuckled. “I may have pissed him off.”

He gave Danny a long assessing look. “I do believe you could make someone angry enough to be foolish.”

“It’s a gift,” Danny said. “And you aren’t the first to tell me that. Do you know how to dismiss the circle?” He felt drained and wasn’t sure if it was his earlier sessions with St. George, or if the septagram was having an on-going effect.

“There’s a dismissal ritual,” the man said, “I can’t perform it. Killing Chatham will probably accomplish the same thing.”

Danny didn’t like the sound of probably, but he moved past it. “What happens after you kill him?”

“I go home and tell my masters what a good boy I am, and they let me live another day.”

“You don’t have to,” Danny started.

“Going to save me like you saved the girl?” he asked, tone mocking. “Be quiet now, little mouse. Interesting things will happen soon enough.”


	15. Chapter 15

The truck roared through the mostly empty streets of Honolulu. After one particularly sharp turn, Kono looked up from the map she watched intently. “Mind not killing us, boss?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, without bothering to slow down in the slightest. 

Kono’s phone buzzed. “Chin confirmed that target D is Eli’s auntie. He’s clearing and will meet us at target C.” Another buzz. “HPD located F and G, both cousins. That just leaves Anna and one cousin.”

“She’s target C,” Steve said flatly. “I know she is.”

“We’re gonna find out in a minute. Take a left here.” 

Steve turned the truck onto a rough road, they were headed inland, and the houses were getting sparser as the buildable land got rougher. 

“Steve, hey, Steve. Our marker is on the move, heading this way. Should be coming up on our 11 o’clock any time now.”

Steve started to slow down, which was the only reason he didn’t hit the figure that came bursting out of the underbrush alongside the road. He anchored the brakes and swore. He saw a flash of wide golden eyes in a terrified face before Anna Malloy took off running again.

“Shit, that’s Anna,” Kono yelled. She was unbuckled and out of the truck before the vehicle had stopped rocking.

Steve dropped it into park and followed right behind.

“Anna! Anna! It’s Officer Kalakaua. Stop!” 

To Steve’s surprise, Kono’s shouts worked. Anna pivoted, flung herself at Kono, and burst into tears. 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Kono soothed, catching her. “I’ve got you.” 

The girl cried harder. 

Kono gave Steve a helpless look over her head. “Anna, breathe for me. Come on. Deep breath. Good. Now let it out. Okay. Good?”

Anna nodded, breath still shuddering. Even from where he stood, trying to stay out of Kono’s way, Steve could see that her pupils were blown wide, iris glittering golden. 

“Anna, were you with your boyfriend tonight?” Kono asked and got another jerky nod. “Who else was there?”

She sniffed. “Mason and his boss a-and there was, uh, a man in the basement. He told me to find you, but there was another guy, and he was gonna kill me, but your friend, he stopped him.” Her words tumbled out in rapid bursts punctuated by hiccupped breaths.

“Okay, Anna, you did really good,” Kono reassured, “You told me. Now I need you to help me find my friend, Danny. He’s in danger.”

“That’s what he said. I told him I would help.”

“And you are. Where’s the house?”

“I don’t know. Not far, I wasn’t running for long, straight up that path. It’s the white one at the end of the street.”

“Tell me about the house.”

Anna gave a decently detailed layout of the house when prompted by Kono’s questions. It was a single story with a basement; there were three doors – the front, one off the kitchen in the back, and the basement door also to the rear of the house. The basement door was the only one she knew was open, as it was how she’d made her exit. She volunteered that Mason’s boss was furious over something and deeply paranoid. The property’s perimeter was set with a plethora of wards and traps, including some purely mundane ordinance. 

She didn’t know how the fourth man had gotten in. She had been able to leave because St. George had gotten tired of taking the wards down whenever she wanted to come and go and finally added a drop of her blood to them to allow her to move freely.

While Kono coaxed information about the house and its occupants from Anna, Steve called the SWAT commander and gave him the location. The team had been on standby, but it was still going to take them half an hour or so to arrive. The thought of leaving Danny alone that long made Steve twitch.

Chin arrived and parked behind Steve’s truck. He stood beside Steve and listened as Kono turned the interview to the people in the house. Steve felt every second that slipped past keenly, but he was so proud of Kono’s rapport and how she kept Anna focused. He knew the value of intel and stifled his need to move.

“Tell me about the fourth man,” Kono asked. 

“He came from outside,” Anna said, much calmer than she had been at the start of the conversation, lulled by Kono’s steady calm and reassurances. “I think he’s there to kill the others.”

Steve couldn’t stop himself. “What do you mean he’s there to kill the others?” he snapped.

Anna flinched, drawing closer to the comfort of Kono’s presence, but still found the grit to answer him. “Your friend talked to him, and it sounded like the man wanted your friend’s help. I think he’s there to kill Mason’s boss.”

“He was in the basement with Danny?” Kono asked, redirecting Anna’s attention back to herself. “Where were Mason and his boss?”

“Upstairs. Mason was in the bathroom changing bandages when I left, he got cut up pretty bad last night. His boss was in the bedroom, lying down.”

“Anna, you’ve done so good. Thank you. I have to go help my friend now. So, I want you to wait in the truck. Lock the doors and stay down. Stay out of sight, okay? I’m going to send a police officer know that you’re here, they’ll come take you someplace safe, alright? You aren’t in trouble; you’ve been extremely helpful tonight. Will you wait here, so I know you’re safe?”

It took a long for her to nod agreement, and Steve considered the wisdom of leaving her alone in his truck, but they were short on options. They couldn’t spare someone to wait with her, and he didn’t like the idea of leaving her vulnerable if they cuffed her in the back. The weapons were coming with him anyway.

Kono ushered her into the vehicle as Steve pulled his gear out. He tossed the bag of magical supplies to Chin, who added it to his own, more robust stockpile.

“We waiting for SWAT?” Chin asked once they were gathered at the mouth of the path Anna had indicated.

Steve shook his head. “I’m worried about the interloper. He has no reason to look out for Danny’s welfare, if he kicks things off and we’re still outside, we’ll have to blast our way through who knows what. And SWAT will want to take their time with the perimeter, this could turn into a standoff with Danny in the middle. I think we go in, get Danny out if we can. Then we pull back and let SWAT tackle St. George.”

They set off up the trail, and true to Anna’s description, it was less than a five-minute hike before Steve found the first of the traps. It was a non-magical tripwire linked to a grenade. It was, frankly, a miracle that Anna hadn’t triggered it on her way down. Progress slowed after that, but it still didn’t take long for them to reach the back of the little house. 

“Chin?” Steve asked.

“On it.” Chin pulled one of the silver beads from the leather band around his wrist and concentrated. The silver tarnished to black as Chin pulled the stored power from it. Energy pulsed outward, and small points of green lit up like constellations in the night sky. “Talk about overkill,” Chin murmured. 

He studied the fading pattern with a frown. “Good news is, these are all static devices, so St. George shouldn’t notice when I take one offline. Bad news is, there’s no way I can handle all of them. I can make an entry point for us, but even that’s going to take time.”

Steve tried not to growl at the delay. “You work on that; I’ll update SWAT on the plan.” The SWAT commander was, predictably, unimpressed. Steve would have to smooth that over later. Chin indicated that they had a path through, so Steve cut the conversation short.

There was a light on in the kitchen window, though the rest of the house was dark. The basement door was unlatched, just as Anna left it. Steve made entry first, silently creeping down the half flight of concrete steps. 

He could see Danny in the center of the room, pale behind the green lines of power. He looked bruised, but not injured, though there was exhaustion in his eyes.

Danny held up a hand toward someone who wasn’t in Steve’s line of sight. “This is my team,” he whispered. “They’re only here for me, they don’t care about Chatham.”

Steve froze, as a large redheaded man stepped into view. He held a gun leveled at Danny’s head with an air of utter indifference. 

“Danny’s right,” Steve said softly. He could hear Chin and Kono on the stairs behind him, staying behind cover. “Let me get him out of here, and you can have Chatham all to yourself.” 

“St. George,” Danny mouthed at his confusion over the new name. 

“Hmm. You can’t,” Big Red said. “Unless you know how to dismiss that circle. Just breaking it would be messy.”

“Do you know how?” Steve asked, edging closer. He made a show of letting his rifle go to hang from its sling, ignoring Danny’s squawk of protest. A gunshot would be disastrous, but if he could talk the man around, or get close enough for a quieter approach…

“Chatham decides to release it out of the goodness of his heart,” he shrugged to show what he thought the odds of that happening were, “or we kill him. Should do the trick.” The gun aimed at Danny didn’t move.

“Oh, put the gun down,” Danny snapped, then winced at his own volume. Quieter, he continued, “You aren’t going to shoot me.”

“Am I not?”

“No. You still need the element of surprise, and with my team here, you have it. Now can the dick-waving contest and put the gun down.”

Big Red chuckled. “Little mouse has teeth. Are you sure you’re not one of my brothers?” 

“Buddy, your family is fucked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Danny snarked back. “Both of you play nice, and everyone gets to walk away happy. Okay? Okay.”

Big Red’s grin was wide, full of sharp teeth. He lowered the gun, though didn’t put it away. “I can play nice, little mouse, I am not sure about your friend though.”

Steve glowered and itched to put himself between Danny and the man. “Chin?” he asked, waving toward the circle. “Could you?”

Chin came forward to study the sigils inscribed into the septagram that trapped Danny. He frowned and shook his head. “This is in a script I’ve never seen before, Steve. I could maybe dismiss the spell, but I can’t be sure it won’t rebound on Danny if I do it wrong.”

“Okay, let’s not poke the unfamiliar magic,” Danny piped up.

“So, we need St. Geor—Chatham, whoever down here to undo it?”

Big Red’s grin was nasty. “Looks that way,” he said.

Steve huffed. “Okay, fine. What do I call you?”

“Piotr,” he offered, with an utterly flat tone that Steve couldn’t read. He doubted it was a real name, but it would serve for the time being.

“Okay, Piotr and I’ll take the staircase. Chin, I want you to take the kitchen door. See if you can set a diversion that draws them that direction. Kono, you stay and guard Danny.”

“You’re gonna need all the help you can get upstairs,” Danny protested. “Chatham is hellishly strong and pissed. He’s done hiding, and he’ll throw everything at you.” He flailed a hand toward Piotr. “He knows that this ox is here to kill him, there is no surrender option. Take Kono too.

Steve shook his head, adamant. “You’re stuck. Anything goes wrong, and you can’t even hide, so no. Somebody stays down here with you.”

“Steve—”

“Not up for debate.”

“SWAT’s here,” Chin interrupted, “but they’re having trouble with the perimeter. The commander isn’t willing to commit until they have a safe passage.”

“We’re not waiting for SWAT,” Steve decided. “We get Chatham down here, force him to release Danny, and we sort out the rest later.”

“You wouldn’t be thinking about double-crossing me, would you?”

“We make arrests,” Danny informed him tartly. “We don’t set people up for assassins.”

“Psh. That’s a stupid rule. ’s why I’m not a cop.”

“You’re not a cop because you’ve been brainwashed by an insane cult.”

“Hurtful.”

Steve cut through their back and forth with a slice of his hand. “We’ll figure it out.”

The jovial act slipped as Piotr gave Danny a long, assessing look. “So, we shall, little mouse.”

None of them missed the way Danny flinched. Steve contemplated sliding his knife between Piotr’s ribs there on the spot.


	16. Chapter 16

Danny growled and paced the small confines of the septagram.

“Hey,” Kono said softly. “It’ll be okay. Bossman and Chin have this.”

“Or,” he countered, in a sarcastically reasonable tone, “everyone here dies horribly, I get sucked dry by an insane cult that wants to steal my daughter, the island’s magical population gets subjugated, and the world falls into utter chaos.”

“Or that,” Kono agreed cheerfully. “But I don’t think the boss’ll let it come to that.”

“He’d better not,” Danny said. “Look, I didn’t want to have this conversation with Steve, but if something happens to me tonight, promise me you’ll hide Grace?”

“It won’t come to that.”

“If it does—”

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask. But it won’t.”

“Thanks.”

They settled back into silent listening. Danny couldn’t see the door at the top of the staircase where Steve and Piotr waited for Chin’s diversion. He scowled at the wall and counted off seconds that felt more like aeons. 

When it came, the boom was loud enough to make the house shiver on its foundation.

“That was from back down the hill,” Kono said, placing herself in a better position to guard Danny against attacks from either of the entrances. “Not Chin. SWAT must have triggered a trap.”

Overhead, there were shouts and stamping feet. Dust drifted down from the bare rafters, and a guttural roar was answered by the sharp crack of Steve’s rifle. Danny cursed his helplessness.

The air electrified behind Danny, he whirled in time to see a violet rip form in reality. 

“Shit! Kono!” he cried.

Chatham appeared, side-stepping as a bullet buzzed through the portal after him. He threw a hand toward Kono, releasing a wave of force that sent her slamming back into the cement block wall. The protection charm on her badge flared to life, keeping the spell from hitting her directly, but she still hit with a sickening thud that Danny felt in his own bones. He could see that she was dazed, but Chatham held her upright, pinned to the wall with crushing force. 

“Hey,” Danny snarled. “Let her go, asshole.”

“You,” Chatham seethed, “I’m going to dissect you, and then I’m going to track down—Grace, was it?—and…”

Unthinking, Danny threw himself toward Chatham. He slammed into the curve of the circle hard, the spell shoving him back with strong shock. Instinctively, Danny poured power into his binding curse; the dizzy echoey sensation was no more pleasant than when he’d first tested the trap. 

He slammed both fists against the invisible line of the trap, snarling his fury at Chatham. Pain flayed him, and he kept his feet out of pure rage. Silver lines flared all along his skin, and each one felt as though it were being branded into him. Danny had already been exhausted, sapped by his sessions with Chatham, but he dug up every stubborn ounce of magic he possessed and shoved it outward.

One of the clay oil lamps that burned at the septagram’s points popped, then a second. All along the scribed lines, Danny could see the green light tarnishing, a spider web of darkness that steadily overtook the light.

“Enough,” Chatham roared. He brought up a hand orbed in violet, sparking light and thrust it toward the failing circle. Violet lightning danced across the lines of power. The remaining lamps flared to life and shattered as one, spreading a puddle of oil across the floor.

Danny was shoved back hard, the recoil felt like being pulled inside out through a straw. His head rung with an abrupt and hollow silence. The world tilted wildly, concrete rushed up to catch Danny.

He lay on his back, staring up at his death and found the grit to smile at Chatham—a snarled baring of teeth. The killing blow didn’t come.

Chatham staggered back, hand clutched against his chest. It took Danny a moment to realize that Chatham had been shot.

“Kono,” he breathed and tried to pick himself up. He was kitten weak and just as helpless. He managed to roll his head to see her, still slumped against the wall for support, rifle remarkably steady as she fired again and again.

Without the distraction of Danny’s tantrum, Chatham brushed the shots aside. He raised his hand again, still sparking with power.

Danny mouthed, “I’m sorry,” to Kono. Tears blurred his vision, and he blinked furiously to clear them. 

She met Danny’s gaze and straightened, giving him a small nod. The first wave of violet power washed over her, pushed back by the protections Chin had carefully worked into her badge. The small ward began to falter around the edges, it wouldn’t hold for long.

Chatham lifted his hand again, chanting an incantation that made the air crackle. 

Danny didn’t see how Steve arrived back in the basement. One moment he’d been sure he was about to watch Kono die, and in the next, the space was filled with wild magic—Steve dancing through the chaos like a wrathful spirit of light and air. 

Chatham met him, spell for spell, but Steve answered with a feral power that Danny had never seen from him before. Danny had never known Steve to be particularly adept with pure casting, but now he seemed imbued with raw magic. There was a new grace to his typically efficient movements, and Danny found himself entranced.

The pair whirled and snarled and danced around each other. Chatham’s spells were polished and calculated, while Steve parried with a fury that was steadily pushing Chatham back. 

The priest was clearly getting tired, beads of sweat stood out on his pale face, and he dripped blood freely from the bullet wound. Despite that, he still managed a few tricks of his own that rocked Steve, and Danny was starting to actually worry about how much damage the house could take.

Danny forced himself off the floor. He reached for his will, thinking he could distract Chatham again—there was barely a flicker in response. Danny pushed harder, and there was a tearing sensation in his chest that brought him gasping back down to his knees. 

It worked as a distraction, but to Danny’s horror, it was Steve who turned toward him.

Chatham grabbed a bottle from the work-bench-turned-altar and dashed it to the ground in front of Steve. Lashing tendrils of blinding light erupted from the pool of liquid and broken glass. One caught Steve a solid blow, flinging him hard toward wall Kono. He rolled as he landed.

Kono side-stepped him easily, moving as though they had choreographed it.

Chatham, the coward, shifted to put Danny between himself and Kono’s bullets. Danny felt the unfortunately familiar sensation of Chatham’s magic taking over the septagram, his vision filling with violet light.

“Any more from either of you,” Chatham said coldly, “and I will grind his heart into dust.”

Danny collapsed forward onto his hands as the pressure from the spell doubled and redoubled.

Piotr hit the bottom step of the basement stairs, shattering the standoff like a thunderclap. He vaulted the writhing mass of light, slashing at any ropey tendrils that came too close. One caught around his ankle and yanked him hard to the ground with a meaty thud. 

The smell of scorching flesh stung Danny’s nose, and he could see the tendril blackening and singeing where it touched Piotr. Piotr swore and hacked at the mess.

“If the hound touches me,” Chatham snarled at Steve, “I will take your friend with me. Stop him, and we go our separate ways.” He emphasized his demands with another jolt of the violet magic through Danny.

Steve shifted, placing himself between Danny and where Piotr had finished hacking the light creature into pieces. The pair squared off. Steve, solid and determined; Piotr bleeding and drenched in dimming luminescent ichor that smoked wherever it touched his skin.

He gave Steve a crooked smile. “Now, I believe we had words about double-crossing me, friend.”

“I can’t risk it,” Steve said. “You go. Your business with him is none of mine, but I can’t let him hurt Danny.”

“You’re lucky, little mouse,” Piotr said, leaning around Steve to speak to Danny directly. “Your man here was a brave one.”

“Enough talking,” Chatham ordered, imperious now that he thought he had the upper hand. 

“Steve,” Danny gasped, trying to catch his breath. 

Steve ignored him. He and Piotr met in a flurry of fists and feet. If Steve’s earlier duel with Chatham had been a dance, this was a bare-knuckle brawl. Danny held his breath as they clashed and tangled and shoved each other away. Steve was panting, and Danny knew that he had to be running on fumes. 

Piotr sensed it too and bared his bloodied teeth in a savage grin. During his next volley of attacks, the silver flash in his hand nearly stopped Danny’s heart. Steve was pushed back on the defensive. Piotr pressed, hungry for the advantage. 

Steve absorbed heavy blow after heavy blow, focus fixed on the blade. He took a step back and slipped in the spilled lamp oil. He went down heavily, cursing as Piotr fell on top of him, blade arching down in a lethal blow.

It slashed through empty air. Steve reappeared behind Piotr and buried a heavy knee in his side. He followed up with a numbing blow against Piotr’s knife hand and came away with the blade. 

Piotr grunted as Steve carved a long slash along his torso. He lashed out, but Steve had already blinked away again. 

This time, Steve reappeared behind Chatham and buried the knife in his throat. The priest gaped, mouth opening and closing on words that would never form. The violet magic he held in his fist began to sputter and die. The only sound as he collapsed came from the harsh panting as Steve and Piotr struggled to calm their breathing.

Piotr’s eyes were wide as he stared at Steve in disbelief. “How in the seven hells did you do that?” he demanded. 

“I don’t—” Steve’s answer was lost in a daylight-bright burst of light that smashed the windows and rattled the house. When Danny finally blinked his vision clear, Piotr was gone. 

As was the green illumination coming from the septagram’s lines and sigils. Danny scrambled over the boundary, not even bothering to test it first. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he gasped.

Steve was on him so fast that Danny almost thought he’d portalled again, hands brushing over Danny with a desperate need check him over. “Okay?” His voice broke on the single word. 

“Yeah. Yes. Kono?” he asked.

“I’m good,” Kono said, coming over to help as Steve pulled Danny up. “Ready to get the hell out of here.”

All three of them jumped as Chin staggered down the short flight of steps from the outside. His vest smoldered slightly, and there was a trickle of blood running from his nose. He took them in, grinning to see them all more or less standing. 

“What was that?” Kono asked, gesturing in the direction he’d come from. 

Chin grimaced. “It’s a good thing we cut off the supply of pix,” he said. “Mason had apparently been sampling a lot of the product, and he was pretty juiced. Burned himself out. Literally.”

“Anyone hurt?” Steve asked.

“Nothing bad. You guys?”

Steve glanced down at Danny, who shrugged. “Nothing bad,” he parroted back. “Need an APB on Piotr.”

Chin nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“Don’t stay too long. Have HPD secure the perimeter. We can’t process it until EDU clears the scene anyway. This mess can keep until we’ve all had some sleep.” Satisfied with his marching orders, Steve headed toward the exit, keeping Danny tucked safely against his side. “Come on,” he murmured quietly to his lover, “Grace is waiting for you.”

That was the best thing Danny had heard in days.


	17. Chapter 17

The trail of blood across the foyer’s parquet floor was not, in and of itself, alarming to Wo Fat. The house couldn’t be tied directly to him, though it would be an inconvenience to relocate. He followed the drips to the guest bath. Piotr sat on the edge of the large soaking tub, stitching a vicious knife wound that curved from his pectoral to low on his ribs. 

“You’re making a mess of that,” he said flatly. “Let me.”

Piotr grinned up at him. “Always did have the daintiest fucking stitches,” he said, moving over the give Wo Fat access.

“Chatham?”

“Very dead, but it wasn’t me that had the pleasure.” He grimaced as Wo Fat began to stitch up his side. 

“Oh?” 

“Same maniac that did this. It was a fucking weird scene. Chatham was tinkering on some poor bastard – and Mr. Stabby was not happy about it.”

“Mr. Stabby?” Wo Fat was only half listening to Piotr’s rambling. 

“Yeah. Fought like US Special Forces, SEALs maybe. Think Chatham was working on making his own Caskuri, had a guy in one of those light-forsaken traps they like to use on us – and it wasn’t one of our brothers.”

“Who was he then?” Wo Fat’s attention was sharp on Piotr now.

“No idea, but I don’t think he’ll be hard to find. The people who came for him were wearing badges, so there’ll be a report somewhere. I’m sure the old men will want to look at what Chatham was up to.”

“You’re going to tell them?” Wo Fat asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“Mr. Stabby had a nifty little portalling trick I’ve never seen before, and I need something to distract them from what a shit-show this mission turned out to be. A shiny mystery with a new toy to play with ought to do – hrk.”

Wo Fat withdrew the knife from Piotr’s ribs and slid it home again. He hadn’t thought any of them could still manage to be surprised by violence, but Piotr’s hurt expression belied that. 

“Sorry, brother,” he said as he lowered Piotr back into the tub to bleed out. “I have plans for McGarrett, that I cannot risk. But I promise you, the old men will pay for what they have done to us.”


	18. Chapter 18

Danny lazed in the hammock on the lanai, basking in the sounds of his family around him. No one had actually planned the gathering on the beach behind Steve’s house, but it wasn’t the sort of thing that even required planning anymore. After rough cases, they all instinctively drifted toward each other.

How ever it had come to develop, Danny appreciated the habit. It soothed his anxiety to have visual proof that his chosen people were safe and whole.

The entire day had been given over to that indulgence. Steve had let him sleep until the early afternoon, waking Danny up with coffee and breakfast, and an utterly unrepentant Grace and Steve. Danny glanced at the clock and then back to the pair; Steve had cracked like an egg, confessing that he’d already called Grace out sick. Grace’s indignance over her co-conspirator’s collapse was a memory Danny would cherish for a long time.

Steve had herded him out to the lanai and done his best to keep him there for the rest of the day, fetching and carrying and generally being such an adorable nuisance that Danny had honestly felt a little overwhelmed by emotion. That didn’t mean he didn’t put up at least a token protest about the hovering. Steve probably would have panicked if he hadn’t, and anyway, Danny didn’t want to set a precedent. (The protest was very token; it was tough to argue that he didn’t need the help when he struggled to manage an entire hour awake.)

He felt a little guilty as Steve attempted to wrap up the investigation remotely, but not enough to suggest that Steve go into the office. Chatham was dead, but Piotr was still out there, and Danny couldn’t let go of the idea that Grace was in danger. If anything happened, the way he currently felt, Danny would be worse than useless.

Chin and Malia turned up around two with a full cookout spread; Kono was about a quarter-hour behind them. Grace had been delighted to see Malia again, dragging the bemused woman over to the makeshift nest Steve had set up for Mr. Hoppy. Danny had chuckled at the sappy look on Chin’s face.

Grace spent the day alternating between playing in the surf with Kono and sticking close to Danny. She seemed quiet and thoughtful. Danny could see the dozens of questions forming in her dark eyes. Still, for now, she seemed content to just keep checking in on him—dragging up treasures from the shore to share and taking the occasional break to clamber up into the hammock alongside him for a cuddle.

Afternoon turned into evening, and hard as she tried to fight it, Grace was clearly exhausted. When she finally lost the battle, Steve scooped her up and carried her into the house, waving off Danny’s attempt to climb out of the hammock. Danny’s heart was ridiculously full.

Chin handed Danny a cold drink. “You alright?”

Danny nodded his thanks. “Eh. Ask me again when I’ve slept for about fifty hours.”

Chin laughed.

“Malia seems great.”

“She is,” Chin agreed.

Danny followed his gaze to where Malia and Kono had what appeared to be an emotional conversation on the beach. They were too far for Danny to hear anything, but when Malia pulled Kono into a tight hug, he figured he got the gist. When the pair walked back up to the lanai, he and Chin both pretended not to notice Kono surreptitiously swiping at her eyes.

Chin met them both with a hug and a quiet “all good?”. 

Danny must have dozed again because when he next blinked, Chin and Malia had gathered up their belongings and were making their farewells. He rallied enough to say goodbye to them, and Kono, who attempted to give Danny a hug, which it turned out was hilariously complicated when the huggee was sprawled in a hammock.

Steve saw them out and then came back out on the lanai. Danny sat up and turned sideways to let Steve sit next to him on the hammock. They sat there for a long time in the growing dark. Steve kicked one foot against the ground to rock them gently.

“We need to talk about what happened this morning?” Danny asked.

“If I say no, will you let it go?”

“What happened? I didn’t know you could cast like that.”

Steve’s posture had gone rigid like he wanted to stand at attention—which Danny knew was Steve’s version of a defensive hunch. “I didn’t either. I’ve never been good at off the cuff magic. That was… I don’t know what that was. Danny, I portalled. Just—just needed to be back in that basement, and there I was.”

“Okay,” Danny said, leaning harder into Steve’s side until he relented and wrapped an arm around Danny. “Something to keep an eye on, but I’m glad you had it when we needed it.”

“Yeah. How about you? How do you feel?”

Danny shrugged. “Hollow. My will is… there’s barely a flicker there. What if it doesn’t come back?”

“Please,” Steve scoffed, but Danny could see worry in the lines of his face, “you are the stubbornest human being I’ve ever met. Like you’ll ever run out of will.”

He felt justified in digging his elbow into Steve’s side. “Grace go down okay?”

“Yeah. I had to check the closet twice and leave the bathroom light on, but she was pretty wiped. It was a long night for all of us.”

Danny nodded. “She’ll probably have nightmares tonight. I’m sure I’ll have a few myself.”

Steve squeezed him tightly. “I thought maybe tomorrow we go get some paint, let her make the room her own. Pick up a night light too.”

Danny twisted so he could look at Steve. “That’s… a very sweet offer, but babe, we’ve been together less than a month. I love you, but there’s fast, and then there’s insanity.”

“Well you can’t go back to the apartment.”

“What? Why not?” Danny tried to fully sit up, but Steve tugged him back into the half embrace. “Steven, what happened to my apartment?”

“Grace,” Steve cut him off before Danny could work himself up to a full head of steam. “When you were attacked, she lashed out. There’s some structural damage. The place is going to be condemned.”

“Monkey?”

“Yeah. And she’s already worried that you’ll be upset that she ran away. I told her you were proud of her for trying to protect you—”

“I am!”

“So, don’t be too upset about the apartment. If you really think it’s too fast, I’ll help you apartment hunt, and we’ll find you something better. But I want you to consider moving in here. I want you both were I can protect you.”

Danny huffed a half-laugh. “We’re moving in, aren’t we?”

“It’s a beachfront house, you could try to sound a little happier about it.”

“I’d be happier if it wasn’t because my eight-year-old had engaged in her first combat.”

“She did good.”

“She shouldn’t have to have done good,” Danny groused. “Piotr is Caskuri, what if he—”

“That’s the other thing I need to tell you about,” Steve said, digging out his cell phone. He tapped on the text messages, turning the phone for Danny to look. “Duke sent me that while I was putting Grace down.”

The picture was taken in what looked like a generic alleyway, nothing that stood out. Piotr looked as though he had sat down against the building and fallen asleep, legs kicked out in front of him carelessly. His shirt front was saturated in dark blood that Danny could tell had already mostly dried by the time the photo had been taken. On the tan wall behind him, written in what appeared to be more dried blood, were the words “no hounds in Hawaii.”

“Who—?” 

“Hey,” Steve held him tight again, hand running up and down Danny’s arm. “Breathe. We’ll tackle that tomorrow. For tonight, it’s enough that you and Grace are here and safe.”

Danny forced himself to take the suggested breath. “Won’t have to hear him call me ‘little mouse’ again,” he finally said.

Steve chuckled and pulled Danny tight against his side, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Danny let him. 

They stayed that way, entwined and rocking, long into the darkness.


End file.
